


The Bloody Tower

by LovelyVillain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Castles, Dark Fantasy, F/M, Haunted Houses, Urban Legends, fairytales - Freeform, tomione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-05-19 06:19:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyVillain/pseuds/LovelyVillain
Summary: Villagers whisper about the haunted Castle by the sea. Dilapidated, dangerous, and at its center stands a Tower.The curious and brave alike have disappeared behind its walls. Many believe a Monster dwells within the ruins.Hermione is about to find out.AU Dark!Fairytale Tomione





	1. Lore

_By the pricking of my thumbs_  
_something Wicked this way comes_

Everyone in the Village knew to keep their distance from the Castle by the grey sea.

It sat upon a steep cliff’s edge, inaccessible by roads or walking paths. The only way up was by climbing the jagged rocks or braving the thick, treacherous wood, a burden few undertook considering the Castle was in ruins, each part of the structure a walking hazard. Beams rotted and snapped, massive stones loosened and fell, the foundation was cracked and caving.

The only piece that remained mostly intact was the tall, narrow Tower at its center.

There were many stories within the Village explaining the Castle’s history, its original purpose. But all anyone knew for certain was it had not been properly inhabited in many centuries. For as long as the villagers could remember the remains served as an ominous presence overlooking the town, to be seen from a distance but never touched.

Rumor and legend were quick to follow, as is wont to happen when children are taught at a young age to avoid a place at all costs. The mystery of the Castle grew, the tales became more outlandish, more fantastic, a haunting lore that traveled far beyond the seaside.

And naturally, as time went on a daring rite of passage developed among the Village youth: sneaking up to the Castle, passing through its massive, crumbling doors, and spending the night inside.

Parents did their best to discourage this activity, despite having performed the task in their own youth. Most knew it was a futile effort but still attempted to prevent their children from doing so. Others simply asked that they travel to the Castle in a group, keeping an eye on one another and reporting back to the Village if an accident occurred.

It had been over a decade since the last disappearance.

No one knew exactly what happened to the young woman, many wrote her off as a runaway, only those closest to the girl insisted something sinister must have occurred to explain her sudden absence. But even they wouldn’t begin to suspect the decrepit ruins on the cliffside had anything to do with it.

And so the tradition continued, month after month, year after year, teens ventured up to the Castle on the first full moon after their eighteenth birthday with a small group of friends and stayed the night in the crumbling entry, surrounded by candles and an overactive imagination. Their friends waited in the grass outside, everyone returning as soon as dawn broke.

And tonight, for better or worse, it was Hermione’s turn.


	2. Into the Woods

A/N: In the spirit of AU, let’s pretend Hermione’s younger than the majority of her friends, Harry included ;)

* * *

 _Blow, blow thou gentle wind, I say…_  
_Until I have braided all my hair, And bound it up again._

“You can’t go inside with her, Potter, it’s against the rules.”

“It is not, people go inside in pairs all the time. I went with Neville, you went with Pansy _and_ Theo.”

Draco scoffed. “I would have been fine going in alone, it’s just the way the moon cycle hit. You want to go exploring, do it on your own time. She’s the only birthday that’s occurred since the last full moon, she goes in alone.”

“I just don’t see what-”

“Enough!” Hermione shouted from behind them as they trekked up the hill. “I’m tired of listening to the two of you bicker like old crones. Harry, I am fine going in by myself. I won’t be the first to do so and I certainly won’t be the last.”

“Unless you die and the Village shuts the Castle down for good.”

All eyes swiveled to Pansy. She gazed up from the flower she’d been depetalling. “What?”

Neville shook his head. “Nothing is going to happen, Hermione. We’ve all done it, you’ll be fine.”

Hermione smiled. “Thanks, Nev. But I think you’re forgetting about Luna.”

The blonde perked up from her place near the back of the group. “This is my seventh trip to the Castle grounds, by the time my turn rolls around it will be quite lackluster.”

Blaise sighed dramatically. “It’s already lackluster. Sitting in the dark surrounded by filth and animal carcasses for hours on end. Why the hell do we do this again?”

“It’s tradition,” Harry snapped. “And if you hate it so much you didn’t have to come, we could have found someone else to be our Seventh.”

The handsome young man smirked. “Calm down, Potter. If you keep scowling your face is liable to stick that way. Granger went to my Initiation so it’s only fair I go to hers.”

“She only went for the Patils. She hardly likes you,” Pansy said with an air of boredom.

Blaise shrugged. “The feeling’s mutual.”

Harry stopped his upward trek and spun around, mouth open and eyes narrowed but Hermione cut him off before he could trade barbs.

“How about we play the quiet game the rest of the way?”

Pansy laughed, somehow both melodic and shrill. “What, are we five?”

“Pansy loses. And I forfeit.” Blaise flashed Hermione his silver grin, making her roll her eyes.

She blocked out the sounds of the group’s bickering and focused on the beautiful nature scene surrounding her. They were deep in the Western Wood, the only path to the Castle that didn’t involve scaling an endless cliffside. The foliage was thick, the large trees stretching high into the heavens, casting shade and dancing light along the forest floor.

She’d made this trip four times already. The first was for Fred and George, then for Ron and Seamus, then Harry and Neville, and most recently for Blaise, Padma and Parvati. Hermione was the first among the group to venture into the Castle alone.

While she wasn’t thrilled with the idea, she’d be lying if she said the prospect of some quiet solitude wasn’t appealing. She’d slipped a few books into her bag, hoping to get some much needed reading done as she passed the long, lonely hours by candlelight.

She imagined the group would continue their arguing while they spent the night camped in front of the Castle. Harry and Draco were often at each other’s throats, but she couldn’t complain as she was grateful the blonde had volunteered to step up and act as one of the Seven in light of so many of Hermione’s friends being absent this weekend.

A large party had traveled to the nearby Town to trade wares. The trip occurred once a month and just so happened to hit on Hermione’s Initiation night. Harry had been scheduled to go but asked his father to stay behind so he could be there for her. Ron had offered to do the same but Hermione had staunchly refused, insisting he go to Town and turn a profit to assist his family.

The Weasley clan had always struggled to make ends meet, further hampered by the deaths of their oldest child and family matriarch. Fever took Bill and Molly a few years prior, along with several others throughout the Village, preying the harshest upon the young and elderly. Going to Town and selling their trappings was far more important than sitting outside a desolate Castle all night, Hermione was happy Ron didn’t stay behind.

She’d tried to convince Harry to go with the party but he refused to entertain the notion, simply saying he’d meet her at the edge of the Woods two hours before sundown and walking away, deaf to her arguments, and rounding up the remaining Seven.

That was another asinine part of the tradition, going as far back as the ritual itself. The party had to be comprised of Seven individuals, no more, no less, including those spending the night inside. Hermione knew seven was a powerful number according to several cultures and religions, but she didn’t know why it was applied to their Village’s tradition specifically. No one questioned the rule, no one dared deviate from it, it was simply accepted and adhered to.

Beyond that, the Initiation ritual was pretty simple in terms of execution, it only required sitting indoors for the night and avoiding injury. Getting to the destination was much harder. The Woods were thick and mostly uphill, making everyone look forward to the trip back more than the trip up. Hermione had yet to encounter a wild beast or deadly pitfall, sticking to the slightly worn path that had been created over generations of Initiation rituals. But she’d heard rumors. The Town was full of them.

Everyone knew about the man that was torn apart by wolves because he was foolish enough to carry jerky in his pockets. Others said it was cooked chicken, some said raw beef. Yet no one knew his name or exactly when the so called mauling occured. Similar stories existed about the boy and girl who were chased for miles by a blood thirsty bear, the woman who fell off the side of the cliff and hit every rock on the way down to the water… and those were just the stories surrounding the Woods.

When it came to the Castle itself, the legends were endless. Hermione had trouble keeping track of them all over the years, giving credence to few as her inflexible scientific mind refused to bend the laws of physics and reasoning to make way for the supernatural. But she was in the minority, her parent’s science and medical background painting her upbringing a different color than many of the other villagers.

Ron believed all the rumors, no matter how far fetched, claiming it was better to be safe than sorry, crossing himself each time he exited the treeline and the Castle came in to view. His younger sister would roll her eyes at his superstitious antics, only to turn around and do the same to herself, out of view from the others.

Hermione was secretly relieved Ron and Ginny were absent, she loved them both dearly but their irrational beliefs put her on edge sometimes. Now that it was her turn to venture inside, alone no less, she certainly didn’t want to hear retellings of all the creatures that supposedly lurked within the ruins.

She spared a sweeping glance at her party, and despite the tensions clearly felt between the two sects of friends, she took comfort knowing the majority of the group was comprised of like minded individuals, at least when it came to the legitimacy of urban legends.

Most of them had at least one parent on the Village council, holding great influence over the way the town was led and business conducted. Being voted into the position required a shrewd and level head, and they no doubt raised their children to have similar dispositions.

Luna was a bit more outlandish than the others, if the dreamcatcher she wore around her neck was any indication, but she didn’t drone on about all the horrifying lore that surrounded their destination. Instead she kept the majority of her focus on nature and space. Her father was the Village astronomer and his daughter turned his observations into detailed, beautiful star charts that were highly sought in the neighboring fishing towns.

Hermione admired the girl’s skill, wishing she had any artistic ability whatsoever. Alas, Hermione was the daughter of the Village physician and had more skill with a scalpel than a sketchpad. Still, she wouldn’t trade her talents for anything. Helping others, prolonging life and overcoming illness was her passion, she was thrilled to officially start her medical training now that she had come of age.

By comparison, taking the two hour trek through the Wood to spend the night in a dusty, barren Castle seemed quite childish now that she was officially an adult. She’d happily do away with the outdated tradition, seeing no value add in the practice. But if she backed out she’d never hear the end of it from the countless others who completed the journey. It was easier to bite her tongue and get through it than cause a stir.

She breathed easier knowing the majority of her friends had completed their Initiation and she’d soon be free from making this long, draining trek. She imagined Luna and Ginny were the final two she’d have to attend.

But tonight, it was her turn, her rite of passage that held little meaning in her heart other than an inkling of nostalgia. The first couple trips through the Woods had been novel, camping out before the Castle’s ominous black doors an exciting break from routine, but by the fourth trip the experience had worn thin. And now she stepped over fallen logs and stray rocks with zero excitement or enthusiasm, only resignation for the long and monotonous night ahead.

“Finally!” Pansy groaned, pulling Hermione from her inner musings.

She glanced up, realizing they’d reached the other side of the Wood. A thin sheen of sweat pooled along her temples and the back of her neck, making her scalp itchy beneath the mounds of curls she’d piled atop her head. She narrowed her eyes, gazing through the breaks in the leaves and branches at the ominous structure in the distance.

The group exited the tree line and Hermione slowed her pace to stand beside Harry, both gazing up at the massive Castle. An eerie stillness and quiet settled around the area, a dark, deathly contrast to the lush green forest they’d just traversed.

But the foliage didn’t grow any further, an invisible barrier preventing the roots from spreading, the seeds from taking hold. The rich brown soil faded to a dusty gray as it neared the Castle foundation, the earth surrounding the structure creating a lifeless sea of dirt.

Hermione took a deep breath, feeling a strange sensation take hold, a minute pressure differential in the air, almost as if she was being watched. She blinked, eyes transfixed on the tall, menacing Tower that sprang from the unbeating heart of the Castle. There was a single window at the top, displaying only a solid, endless black.

She blinked, forcibly fighting past the annerving feeling and stepping forward, her boot leaving the grass and landing on dry scorched earth as she progressed. Harry fell into step behind her, always the comforting presence at her back, and she heard the others as they crunched through dead leaves and twigs.

A chilling wind stole past, raising gooseflesh along her arms, blowing errant curls into her eyes and mouth. She brushed the hair away, tipping her head back to maintain her view of the Tower, feeling the inexplicable need to keep it within her sights.

She scolded herself for being foolish, for buying into the frivolous legend after all this time. She might as well cross herself the same as Ron. She drew her shoulders back, eyes narrowing, determination stealing her features.

She’d see this evening through with a level head. This trip was no more significant than any of the others that came before it. The only difference was she’d be spending the evening inside rather than out front. Come sun up she’d be back to her usual routine, finally able to put these childish antics behind her.

None of them could have predicted that by morning Hermione would vanish without a trace.


	3. A Sweet Melody

_Turn back, turn back, thou pretty bride,_  
_Within this house thou must not abide._  
_For here do evil things betide._

“Okay, let’s run through it one more time. You’ve got the extra pitcher of water, snacks, candles, matches, blanket- wait, that one’s really thin and it gets really drafty inside-”

“Bloody hell, Potter, she’s going to be fifty feet away, not fifty miles! Give her the bag and let’s get a move on!”

Harry sent the blonde a withering look. “Shut up.”

Hermione sighed, reaching for the bag in her friend’s hand. “I’m sorry to say it, but Draco’s right, Harry. I’m going to be just inside, if I need anything I can holler at you.”

“Yeah but I can’t go inside-”

“You can throw whatever she needs over the threshold. It’s not that big a deal. However the sun’s almost down and we haven’t got our fire built yet.”

“And who’s fault is that? The only people working to set up camp are Nev and Luna, if the rest of you pitched in a hand maybe we’d be finished by now.”

“What do you think-”

“Okay!” Hermione interrupted, drawing both their gazes. “I’m going inside now.”

Harry blinked. “Wait! We didn’t finish the checklist-”

Draco scoffed loudly and Hermione smiled, giving Harry’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

“Harry, everything will be fine, okay? Now go help the others finish setting up, I’m going inside before we lose the meager light we have.”

He sighed deeply, finally nodding. “I hate that you have to go inside alone.”

She hoisted the heavy supply bag up onto her shoulder. “It’s just one night. I’ve spent plenty of those alone when mum and dad work late at the clinic.”

Harry shook his head even as he led her to the massive set of black iron doors. “This is totally different and you know it.”

She couldn’t help but smirk at his back. Harry, always the Great Protector. He was the closest thing she had to a brother and she adored his attentiveness, even as it annoyed her more often than not.

“I think I can manage to avoid falling into a hole or otherwise maiming myself for one evening, Harry.”

“I’m not so sure.”

She rolled her eyes at the second person walking up to assist Harry with the heavy doors.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, Draco.”

The blonde winked. “Anytime, luv.”

The boys went to opposite doors and heaved with grunting breaths, managing to pull them open enough to allow her entry. A strong gust of dusty, stale air blew out and into her face, causing her to double over with a cough.

“Shite! Sorry about that!” Harry was already walking towards her, hands out as though he could somehow banish the debris from her lungs through concern alone.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell, she’s not even inside and already she’s at death’s door.”

“If she injures herself before taking a step inside then I win the bet!” Pansy shouted with glee from the campsite.

Hermione wiped at the tears that formed from her coughing fit and shook her head at the girl’s mirth.

“I’m fine,” she croaked. Harry didn’t look convinced.

“Can we get a move on? We need some help over here!” Blaise shouted from his reclined position on the grass, earning a scathing look from Neville who had his arms full with firewood.

Harry flipped the boy the bird and then turned back to Hermione. “Promise me you’ll shout if you need anything, if anything happens-”

“I promise,” she cut him off by throwing her arms around his middle, as much as she could beneath the weight of the supply bag and her own pouch filled with books.

Harry hugged her back, lingering with his lips by her ear. “I’m serious, Mione. I don’t give two shites what anyone here thinks. If you need me, just call out.”

She smiled, nodding her head in the affirmative and then pulling back, giving a big wave to the smiling Luna and fatigued Neville before spinning on her heel to face the ominous darkness of the Castle interior.

She took a step forward and paused, a strange feeling settling over her, a far off whisper in the back of her mind that spoke in a language she couldn’t comprehend.

“Any slower and you’ll be moving backwards, Granger.”

“Malfoy, piss off.”

“So sensitive, Potter.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking off the unsettling feeling for the second time since their arrival and walking forward on a deep breath. She crossed the threshold and felt an electric current run up her spine, making the fine hairs on her arms stand on end. She swallowed, spinning around and locking gazes with Harry.

“We’ll be right outside.”

She nodded, and then did her best to hide her cringe as the boys pulled the doors shut, encasing her in a tomb of shadows, dust and echoes.

* * *

An hour later the sun had fully set. Hermione was surrounded by absolute and total blackness apart from the bubble of soft candle light that encased her in its flickering glow. She lit three candles and set them in front of her, laying across the blanket on her stomach, head propped on her arms as she read through one of the medical journals she had swiped from her parent’s collection.

The lighting wasn’t ideal, but the silence was. The thick Castle walls absorbed all sound from the outside, the incessant chatter of her friends falling away as soon as the doors were shut. The bottom level didn’t have any windows, at least that she could see from the entry hall, but the vaulted ceilings filtered in muted moonlight from the upper windows visible through the landing above.

The master staircase was broken, the bottom steps rising into nothingness as the middle section lay in rubble at the bottom. She wasn’t going to explore the upstairs it seemed. Not that she held any desire to roam through any parts of the Castle. Her friends had told her enough details about the various rooms within to quench any curiosity she may have had. Harry and Draco had both tried to outdo the other, exploring as many rooms as they could during their separate overnight stays.

Harry had won, if memory served, thanks to a small cluster of servant’s quarters he had managed to somehow find. Both boys were a bit reckless when it came to competing with each other, but when it came to a chance at adventure and discovery Harry was even more callous with his safety, risking life and limb for the mere sake of an adrenaline rush.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the thought of the boys scaling up the broken stairs like mountain climbers, desperate to peak at the barren, dusty bedrooms for bragging rights alone. No thank you. She was perfectly content with staying in the entry hall, keeping company with her books and some blissful quiete. The Village was always bustling, the streets busy even at night. It was rare she was completely without distraction.

But try as she might to focus on the text in front of her, she couldn’t help but shake that strange, lingering feeling of… otherness. She didn’t know how else to describe it. It caused an itching sensation deep between her eyes and at the base of her skull, some broken thought or memory trying to surface but unable to find the purchase to do so. Try as she might to grasp and pull it free, she couldn’t quite reach it. It was driving her mad and the more she tried to ignore it the more it stirred unrest within her.

Finally she sat up with a sigh, slamming her book shut, jolting at the obscene echo it sent bouncing off the walls and ceiling. She swallowed lightly, peering at the vast nothingness around her, encased in blackness as she was.

Okay, she could see how this place inspired so many sordid legends over the years. It was without a doubt a chilling place to reside, even for one evening.

She rubbed her eyes, wondering if she could be so lucky as to catch a moment’s rest in this place. Unlikely, she experienced troubled sleep at home, in her own bed. There was no way she’d find success on the stone floor of this haunting tomb.

And she could no longer distract herself with reading… which left little in the way of options to pass the long hours ahead.

_Bloody hell, one hour in and I’m already climbing the walls._

_Of course Harry was probably climbing the walls and the ceiling after an hour._

She smirked. Then raised a thoughtful brow.

Exploring the Castle _was_ a way to pass the time. Even killing an hour would be helpful. She didn’t intend to crawl through rubble and swing on ropes across great chasms but she could certainly stretch her legs a bit on the first floor, peaking in the rooms of whatever doors already stood open. She didn’t have to touch anything and if it became dangerous she could simply return to the safety of her blanket.

She realized belatedly that she was trying to talk herself into exploring. She wasn’t a timid person by any means, sewing flesh back together and setting broken bones that protruded through the skin, she had a strong constitution and sense of reasoning, and she _certainly_ wasn’t superstitious….

Just then an outside breeze whistled in through the upstairs window, the sound ricocheting off the walls and surrounding her in a whirl of sharp whispers. Dead leaves and loose debris blew around, scraping across the stone floor and tapping against the walls. She brought her knees up, wrapping her arms around them and burying her face against her legs.

_Get a grip, Mione!_

She took a deep, calming breath. The voices receded, the wind died down and silence once more fell around her like a heavy cloak.

She peered up, the dancing candlelight sending tall shadows across the nearby stones but not quite reaching the far walls. She reached forward and grabbed a candle, slowly rising to her feet and spinning in a circle, pondering where to start.

Another breeze blew through, though this time it didn’t whistle or stir any dried leaves, it merely spoke to her.

_This way…_

She blinked, spine rigid. Surely she imagined the voice.

_Of course you did! The wind doesn’t talk._

She was going a bit stir crazy no doubt. That was the only reasonable explanation. Best she start roaming about for a change of scenery, a chance to clear her head. She stepped forward, unconsciously moving in the direction the non-voice had beckoned.

She carefully stepped over fallen stones and stray branches, blown in from the upstairs windows no doubt. The interior was cold and grew colder the further in she walked. She held the candle aloft, walking slowly down a hall that flanked the broken staircase. The walls held no portraits, no decoration aside from a black swirl design. She paused, slowly touching her fingers to the smooth stone and drawing her hand back, inspecting the dark powder coating her fingertips.

_Ash._

The swirl pattern wasn’t a pattern at all, but rather scorch marks.

_When was there a fire here?_

She ran through her mental repository for all the legends she’d heard since her youth, not recalling any tales about a fire claiming the Castle.

_Interesting, all my friends have been inside and none noticed the scorched stone covering the hall?_

Then again, most of her friends were probably too busy trying to cover every square inch of the grounds in one night, giving no prolonged focus to any one area.

She wiped her fingers clean on her heavy skirts and continued her path along the corridor. She paused at the end, beneath a high arched doorway. The room before her was vast and open, windows set up high in the vaulted ceiling, showing a star filled sky beyond. The streaming moonlight revealed a cross hatch of wood beams overhead, most splintered and rotting. She didn’t dare set foot inside in fear one may fall upon her head, her light footsteps disturbing the delicate balance of structural integrity and decay.

Empty sconces decorated the walls, iron rods dispersed throughout, no doubt once displaying vast tapestries long since burned or stolen. The walls showed signs of fire damage here as well. A massive hearth was set into the far wall, intricate patterns carved in the bordering stone framing a gaping mouth of blackness. Staring into the endless void sent a chill down her spine. She quickly darted her eyes away, sparing the room with one last sweeping glance. If she had to guess she’d say it served as a ballroom in its prime. Perhaps a storage locker during times of war or famine.

She wished desperately she knew more about the history of this place. The real history, not the fantastical yarn spun by those within her Village. She had never been particularly curious about it before, but now that she was standing inside history itself her mind ran wild with imaginings. She closed her eyes and could practically hear the tread of footfalls as people bustled in and out of the room, the laughter of women as they were swept across the dance floor, the steady murmur of overlapping conversations taking place by guests gathered along the walls.

She sighed, opening her eyes and pulling back, reluctantly turning to face the hallway.

And then she heard it.

She stopped dead in her tracks, ever muscle tense, blood running cold.

She blinked, unable to move, to turn back around. Turning would mean facing the sound, and facing the sound would mean recognizing that it could possibly exist. And it couldn’t possible exist. Not here. Not now.

She swallowed, holding her breath and straining to listen. It was muffled, distant, but absolute and distinct. Unavoidable. She couldn't chalk this up to her wild imagination. This wasn't her mind playing tricks on her. Even in her wildest dreams, in her most panicked state, she’d never contrive such a fantastical noise as this.

A violin.

Playing a soft, haunting melody.

From somewhere in the Castle.

She finally sucked in a sharp breath and spun on her heel, once more facing the vast empty ballroom. It remained the same, not a cobweb out of place. The only movement she could see were the clouds of dust floating through the air, disturbed by the light breeze coming through the windows above.

_Is it coming from outside?_

She knew that wasn’t possible. No one brought a violin, even if they were to find one lying about, none of them would be able to play that well.

Whoever was wielding the instrument was a true maestro.

That thought only unsettled her further. Why would a talented musician be here, at night, in the dark playing music?

She blinked rapidly.

_Time to fetch Harry and the boys._

The idea sounded like a good one. Logical. So she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she was walking in the wrong direction, stepping beyond the threshold and entering the ballroom, eyes searching the vast space for the source of the noise, mindless of the dangerous beams hovering overhead.

Her candle flickered wildly as she spun in circles, casting her silhouette over the walls in a rush of movement, making it seem as though the room was once more alive with dancers, dresses swinging to and fro with the melody. She squinted, trying to see past the shadows she cast for some other source of-

She gasped, pulling the candle to her chest, her quickened breath almost snuffing out the flame and casting her into darkness. But the flame lived on, flickering back to full strength, revealing a hidden door in the wall, open enough to see the sliver of blackness awaiting beyond.

She swallowed, shoulders tensed.

Now was definitely a great time to get Harry.

She stepped closer to the door, the haunting melody growing louder as she neared. She sucked in a breath as she stood before the opening, the music stopped just as she reached out a hand. She stood frozen, heart stuttering beneath her ribcage, feeling as though she was caught doing something she shouldn’t be doing. But the musician couldn’t see her, could they? They had sounded so far away…

And just as she was certain she’d imagined the whole thing, her heartbeat reverberating in her ears like a drum, the music started once more. The same tune. So perfect. So beautiful. A siren song, drawing her closer with every note.

She opened the door wider, cringing as it screeched on rusted hinges. She bit her lip, waiting, waiting, but the music continued unabated.

Taking a deep breath Hermione held the candle out in front of her to light the path ahead.

To search out the source of the sweet, hidden melody.


	4. The Red Door

_Once you’re lost_  
_In the twilight blue,_  
_You don’t find your way_  
_The way finds you._

Hermione stepped through the hidden door and walked along the narrow hallway within. She suspected she was heading towards the center of the Castle.

Towards the Tower.

The thought chilled her for some inexplicable reason but she pushed ahead, drawn by the beautiful chords floating around her, permeating her skin, sending a flush of warmth through her limbs. The melody sounded familiar, causing that strange itching sensation deep in her mind to return, unable to be quelled.

But there was no way she could have heard such music before. She only heard instruments played at Village celebrations by local town folk, and not only did they play upbeat, quick paced tunes, they didn’t play with a great deal of skill, which seemed to matter little when the Villagers were filled with mead and good spirits.

But this song was slow, haunting and perversely beautiful. It was a dark lullaby, a lover’s goodbye kiss, a heart’s yearning for something it will never possess…

She swallowed, shaking her head.

_Where did all that come from? Since when are you musically inclined, little less poetic?_

She held her breath as the hallway ended and another door came into view, heavy and wood, a large iron handle at waist level. She let her hand linger in the air, suddenly apprehensive about continuing.

_What am I doing? I shouldn’t be seeking out the source of the music. I should be fetching Harry. Why did I come this far? Am I mad?_

The music seemed to swell around her, making her heart race and soothing her frazzled nerves at the same time. It whispered sweet nothings in her ear, assurances, promises.

_How can anyone who plays such a beautiful song be dangerous? They’re a master of the craft. I need to meet them, learn from them. I’ve always longed to meet someone so talented…_

_Yes, yes I must find them._

She opened the door, face a blank mask, eyes gleaming in the flickering candle light, footsteps following the path of the invisible rope, drawing her closer, closer…

She emerged in a small, circular chamber with a low ceiling. The shape of the room and its size revealed where she was.

The base of the Tower.

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise at the revelation.

The chamber possessed three large doors, evenly spaced out, the one at her back and two others, all of a different material. The door she’d just emerged from was a dark stained wood, bearing the signs of fire damage on both sides. The stone walls in the chamber also possessed scorch marks, lapping all the way up the ceiling.

_What happened here?_

She realized one of the doors must lead to the upper levels of the Tower, though she had no idea about the other.

None of her friends had ever entered the Tower, try as they might they could never find the entrance. This of course led to more lore surrounding the intimidating bit of architecture. They didn’t know about the hidden door. It must have been concealed when they stayed the night.

She could only imagine the look on Harry’s face when she told him she found the passage.

She was pulled from her inner musings as the music suddenly stopped. She blinked, holding her breath, willing it to start up again.

Only silence greeted her.

She glanced at the other two doors, wondering if the mysterious musician was behind one of them. And what she would do if they were.

One door was made of black iron, similar to the Castle’s front entrance. The other was a mixture of wood and metal, beautiful scrollwork embedded in the grain. She thought it amazing the artful piece wasn’t pilfered by robbers after all this time.

She felt a swelling of emotion while staring at the design, not understanding her own reaction. She appreciated art but didn’t spend much time admiring it, she didn’t possess the keen eye for such things. That was Luna’s strength, and Pansy’s, though Hermione was reluctant to pay the latter girl a compliment.

Hermione chalked up her emotional response to the lingering effects of the music. She purposely moved away from the beautiful door and instead pulled on the handle of the pure iron slab. It didn’t budge. Locked.

She bit her lip and backed away, facing the doorway she’d just emerged through but finding her feet glued to the ground.

_I’ve already come this far…_

_It would be foolish not to check if the other door is open._

_I don’t have to go inside. I’ll just give it a tug…_

She was standing before the intricate scrollwork before she was done with her internal debate. She heard a small whisper in the back of her mind, sounding strangely like her own voice…

_What are you doing, Hermione? This is madness! What spell has possessed you to be so reckless?_

_Go. Back. Now!_

She held her breath once more as she reached for the handle and pulled.

The door opened easily beneath her touch.

She released the breath on a sharp gasp, the small chamber flooding with the warm glow of flickering light from somewhere below, much brighter than what her measly candle produced.

Before her was a set of stone steps leading down to a destination unknown. She had no idea the Castle possessed underground levels, no one had mentioned a basement. Then again, if they couldn’t access the Tower, they certainly couldn’t access these stairs.

The path was winding and she couldn’t see beyond the first few steps before the stonewall blocked her view. She blinked rapidly, full of apprehension, when another soft breeze stole past.

If she hadn’t been so focused on the mysterious staircase she may have realized there was no way for a breeze to enter a room with no windows. But alas, she felt the hair stir around her face, her skirts blowing softly towards the stairs. A gentle beckoning.

_Come._

_Come down._

She sighed softly, drawing her candle nearer and slowly stepping forward, her boot tapping the stone of the first step. She stood frozen for a heavy beat, awaiting some great catastrophe to occur, some indication that she was making a horrible, horrible mistake.

The soft light continued to lick at the stone walls, dancing up the stairs, casting her long shadow across the chamber wall at her back. She glanced one last time over her shoulder, eyeing the wood door that led back to the main Castle.

The tiny voice at the back of her mind urging her to turn around was nearly completely muted, replaced by the driving urge to uncover the source of the mysterious music, this bright light. It was so unlike her to be driven to lunacy for curiosity’s sake alone. She almost felt like she was on the outside looking in at her body. It was a disturbing notion, but easily quelled in lieu of her burning desire to continue forward.

She bit her lip and faced the stairs once more, lifting her skirts with her free hand and continuing down down down…

* * *

Harry sat before the large campfire, blanket pulled tight around his shoulders as he gazed past the flames, focused on the large ominous doors of the Castle. He had a strange feeling about this night, something unsettling that prickled along his skin from the moment they arrived.

He’d been to the Castle countless times before. He’d been _inside_ it countless times, sneaking through the Wood to explore the ruins during daylight hours long before his eighteenth birthday. He was drawn to the mysterious and unknown, longing for adventure, the chance to discover something for the first time.

He’d spent his whole life in the Village, knew everyone who resided there, was part of a well respected and influential family. But he longed to escape that life, for some change in the pattern of his existence.

Alas, there was little in the way of entertainment and distraction, apart from the Castle, that is. He took it upon himself to become intimately familiar with the grounds and interior, scaling the walls like a mountain climber to access the most sequestered parts.

The only area he’d never been able to gain entry to was the Tower. He’d spent countless hours looking for a way in and had always come up short. It drove him mad, trying to uncover the mystery. To his knowledge no one living in the Village had been inside the imposing structure. He could only assume that was why the architecture still held, so little interference from outside forces.

But if anyone could find a way in, he’d bet his money on Hermione. She was brilliant, had a way of looking at things from an angle no one else grasped. A part of him hoped she did a little exploring, stepped out of her element and did something a bit daring.

A larger part of him hoped she stayed put in the entry hall all night, safe from injury and accident. He knew she longed for an escape as much as he did, something more than what the Village offered. But neither were willing to part from their families, their friends, the people who depended on them.

Harry had been adamant about Hermione completing her Initiation because he thought it important she do something for herself, however frivolous. To take a step out of her comfort zone, pushing her limits and proving to herself just what she was capable of. He wanted her to make the most of her one night of freedom, of absolute privacy, to discover the adventurer dwelling within her heart.

That was the point of Initiation afterall, bidding farewell to one’s childhood and ushering in the next phase of their life, a night of self discovery and personal growth.

But now he sat outside the Castle with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He desperately wished he had gone inside with her, to hell with the rules, they had been altered slightly with each generation anyway. He should have pushed the matter, should have insisted on accompanying her.

He sighed, tearing his gaze away from the doors only to find himself staring up at the Tower.

Yes, something felt different about tonight.

He just hoped it was all in his head.

* * *

The light got brighter as she descended, the silence more heavy and oppressive, the temperature plummeting with her every step. Hermione reached the bottom and shivered, her breath creating smoky clouds that dissipated with the invisible breeze.

She was amazed she could draw breath at all, looking around in amazement.

She stood at the front of a large, low ceilinged room.

Not just a room…

A library.

She blinked, body flush with excitement, warming her limbs despite the frosty chill surrounding her. She stepped forward, her sense of reasoning long forgotten the moment hundreds of books met her view.

There was easily two dozen bookcases reaching up to the ceiling. There were several sconces on the walls, burning bright with hungry flames.

_Who lit them?_

She licked her lips, pushing the question aside to peer at the titles at eye level on the shelf in front of her. Her heart lurched in her chest, electric tingles racing up her spine and settling at the base of her skull.

_Fasciculus Medicinae_

_De Humani Corporis Fabrica Libri Septem_

_The Anatomy of Humane Bodies_

She gasped, hand darting out and hovering over the worn spine, desperate to touch but apprehensive to make contact.

_They look like first editions! The value alone…_

_What are these doing here? Did they belong to the original inhabitants?_

She’d only heard about such historic titles, as limited as quality literature was to her. Old Madam Pince possessed the largest book collection in the Village and allowed residents to borrow titles, but she mostly carried modern fiction traded at local markets.

Hermione’s parents possessed a fine collection of medical books but they were nothing compared to what sat before her.

She bit her lip, lowering her hand with great reluctance. She didn’t want to decrease the value of such priceless collectables by putting her hands on them. But her eyes lingered on the books for a long moment before she walked to the center aisle between the rows of shelves.

She peered hungrily at the books along the end of the rows, boots shuffling as she fought the urge to get lost along the stacks, the scent of parchment and ink, leather and glue bindings. Books held a certain magic, their profound effect on her the only bit of supernatural she believed in.

But her eyes were drawn away from the hidden treasure trove by a startling sight at the other end of room.

Centered between the two long rows of shelves was a deep red door, glowing brightly in the dancing flame.

She’d only seen such a shocking shade of crimson occur in one other place in nature.

Blood.

She drew up short, taking an instinctive step back. The door was benign enough, short compared to the others she’d passed through to get here, but it held an ominous presence that chilled her to the bone.

The sconces along the walls all flickered at once, shadows dancing high along the walls and ceiling. She held her breath, muscles tensed, feeling no breeze rush past to explain the phenomenon.

She was frozen to the spot, heart stuttering a staccato beat within her chest, knees weak. She closed her eyes, willing her limbs to wake up, to carry her away.

_I need to get out of here, go upstairs, get Harry-_

_But don’t you want to peek behind the door?_

Her eyes snapped open, head swiveling in either direction, looking for the source of the foreign voice.

That last whisper hadn’t been in her head, it had been at her ear. She’d practically felt the warm breath along her neck. And though she saw no one, she could sense another presence with her.

_Time to leave!_

She finally regained her faculties, spinning on her heel and hiking up her skirt, preparing to dash for the exit.

When she heard the unmistakable sound of a doorknob turning and hinges creaking...

She jolted, frozen with fear once again, adrenaline flooding her veins and clouding her thoughts, leaving her a terrified shell of raw nerves and throbbing pulse.

The creaking stopped, the silence that followed unbearable, and she forced herself to turn back around, clutching the candle to her chest like a shield.

The red door was open.

The room had a new occupant.

The Castle walls easily smothered her scream.


	5. Talking to Strangers

_There’s a wolf who prowls about_  
_Talkative and smiling._  
_You would never find him out,_  
_He is so beguiling._  
_Should you meet him, Little One,_  
_Do not stay to chatter._  
_From the wicked creature run_  
_As fast as you can patter._

Hermione dropped her candle, inhaling sharply and screaming with the full strength of her lungs, terror seizing her.

She backed up rapidly, eyes affixed to the massive creature slithering across the floor, closer closer closer-

She lost her footing and tumbled to the hard stone, bruising her tailbone and effectively cutting off her scream in order to release a sharp gasp of pain. The creature slowed it’s ascent, as though her commotion startled it, large slitted eyes watching her unblinking, forked tongue slipping past a lipless mouth.

“Nagini!”

Hermione gasped anew, eyes darting up to lock on the man standing in the doorway. Her eyes widened as he whispered sharply, so sharply it almost sounded like a hiss, and suddenly the massive snake was coiling around itself, sparing Hermione one last flicker of its tongue and then crossing the floor to its master, circling his feet as he stepped into the library.

“My apologies. She knows how to open doors. I didn’t realize there was anyone down here.”

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, eyes wide, an assortment of emotions warring within her, terror and shock among the most powerful. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. His irises were a deep, stormy grey. They sparkled in the flickering light of the torches, flashes of lightning appearing in their depths.

His penetrating gaze was framed by long dark lashes and a strong brow, and finally she allowed her eyes to sink lower, noting his chiseled features, sharp cheekbones and jawline, all set beneath unblemished pale skin, as though he were shaped from marble itself. His lips were full and set in a straight line, the corner tipping up with a hint of amusement, which undermined the concern in his voice.

He was perhaps the most attractive man she’d ever laid eyes upon in person, and his perfect beauty only served to terrify her further. She had been taught at a young age not to trust something without flaws, for that only meant it was skilled at hiding its imperfections.

He stepped closer, making her flinch back instinctively, her eyes traveling down to watch his body, fearful of his movements. He froze, hands held aloft in the universal sign of peace. He was tall and lean, clad in pure pitch, same as his thick wavy hair, making his pale skin glow otherworldly in contrast.

His shoulders were broad enough to suggest he could easily over power her. He was taller than the boys outside for certain, but Harry and Blaise packed more muscle, she was confident her friends could protect her if need be.

_But they aren’t here with me, are they?_

She bit her lip, shrinking back further, heart stuttering.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice pleasantly deep, the slow baritone soothing her frayed nerves. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you alright? May I help you up?”

She blinked, cheeks flushing as she realized she was still sprawled out on the floor beneath him, skirt a mess and her bare calves showing over the line of her boots.

“Oh… yes, thank you.” Her voice sounded high and strained to her ears, making her cringe and clear her throat as he slowly approached, holding a hand out.

She tentatively reached forward with her own, and as their palms touched she felt an electric current race along her nerve endings from her fingertips to her shoulder. She locked gazes as it occured and felt her lungs deflate as his eyes transformed, the grey swallowed by rapidly expanding pupils, a fathomless depth she would fall into if she lost her balance...

She inhaled sharply as he grasped her by the wrist, his touch gentle but firm, and above all else ice cold. Still, a burning heat stole along her chest and neck, spreading like spilled ink along her cheeks, exposing her inner most thoughts.

She was pulled swiftly to her feet. He seemed to exert no effort in countering her weight, as though pulling up a piece of parchment paper. They stood but a foot apart, she gazed up at him, transfixed by his, and realized with a deeper blush she was still clutching his hand.

She released him as though burned and took a step back. She opened her mouth but didn’t know where to begin. He smiled, and unsurprisingly that dazzled her as well. It transformed his face into something radiant, ethereal, muddling her thoughts even further.

“You must be from the Village, yes? I don’t normally receive visitors here, in the Tower. I assume you found the hidden door?”

She blinked. Of all the things she’d been anticipating for this night, this was certainly an interesting turn of events.

She nodded, his easy and polite manner, coupled with his disarming appearance, calmed her down from her fight or flight response. She was still wary due to their subground isolation but she no longer felt the need to scream out for help.

“I… yes, I’m from the Village… and you?”

“I’m not from the Village.”

She couldn’t help but match his smile with her own. She unconsciosly tucked a stray curl behind her ear, lacing her fingers together to stop from fidgeting beneath his stare.

“Yes, I knew that. I know everyone from my town. Are you… do you live here?”

He tilted his head, eyes roaming her face carefully, as though searching her expression for something. She straightened beneath his inspection, feeling supremely self conscious. She swallowed anxiously as his eyes once more locked with hers, his friendly smile turning into something more playful, secretive. It made her heart lurch and warmth pool in her stomach.

“Can you keep a secret?”

Her breath quickened and she nodded eagerly, like a foolish school girl, but she was quickly realizing she had no control over her impulses, or motor functions, when it came to this mysterious stranger.

His smile deepened, white teeth gleaming in the light. “I use this place as a base for my research. I’ve been here for nearly a year. I’ve done my best not to disturb the ruins and to stay out of everyone’s way. I know that children come every month on the full moon to explore. I take it that’s why you’re here?”

She swallowed, mortified at being referred to as a child by a man who appeared hardly older than she. But alas, that was why she was here, for a silly Initiation ritual, what could possibly be more childish than that?

“Um… yes, I turned eighteen last week and…” she stopped short, wondering why she felt the need to reveal that fact. “I mean, it’s this ritual that everyone participates in when they reach eighteen. Me and my friends… we… it’s silly.”

She shook her head, fearful her face may burst into flames at any moment. She heard him chuckle, light and melodious, exactly what she imagined such a creature’s laugh to sound like, and it was music to her ears, despite the embarrassment of it being at her expense.

As she gazed at the ground she caught movement in her peripheral and was once more reminded that a massive snake sat coiled mere feet from where they stood. She gasped, taking a reflexive step back. His amusement abated, eyes flashing dark as she stepped away, a predatory look overtaking his features, there one instant and gone the next, so fast she decided she must have imagined it.

His eyes darted to the serpent and back to her, expression softening, beckoning. “Don’t be frightened, please. Nagini is well trained. I know her size is intimidating, but I assure you she means you no harm.”

Hermione opened her mouth but found her throat was too dry to speak. She swallowed convulsively, clearing her throat as she continued to gaze at the massive creature. “She moves quite fast, I barely blinked and she was already across the room.”

He nodded. “She is very fast. And she was trying to protect me from an intruder. But now that I’ve told her to leave you be she’ll mind me.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped back to him. “And if you change your mind?”

He stared at her for a long moment, head tilting, and then broke out laughing anew. This time the sound was deep and honey thick, igniting a warmth in her middle that permeated through her limbs.

“I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His words rendered her speechless, the phrasing utterly beguiling. She felt rooted to the spot, transfixed by the intensity of his storm grey eyes as he stepped closer, body radiating a heat that enveloped her in its gentle embrace. She felt so at ease, so safe, so content...

“I’m sure your friends are worried about where you’ve disappeared to. Would you like me to escort you back up?”

She blinked, the spell suddenly broken. She shook her head, trying to regain her senses. “Oh… um… no. I mean no, they aren’t looking for me. That is, they’re all outside, on the grounds. I came inside alone.”

As soon as she said it she desperately wished she could recall the words.

_Idiot! Telling a strange man that you’re here alone? How can you be so daft!_

He must have sensed her panic, his expression softening.

“I am still happy to escort you back upstairs, to the entrance. Unless you’d prefer some privacy.”

She felt her chest loosen at his words, inferring no threat in them, or in his relaxed posture. She shook her head again, gently this time, smiling despite her nerves.

“That’s alright. I remember the way. I just came down to search out the source of the light. I’d been wandering aimlessly before that, trying to kill some time.”

He smiled. “Yes, it can be rather boring here, can’t it?”

She nodded. “I was feeling a bit cagey. I thought stretching my legs might help.”

“Did you find anything interesting?”

She laughed lightly. “Yes, this place.” She gestured around her. “It’s amazing. I had no idea anything was here, below ground. I don’t think anyone does.” She glanced back to him quickly. “Not to worry, though. I won’t disturb your work. I understand the need for quiet solitude. Better than most, I suppose.”

His eyes held her firmly, gaze searing, sending thrills along her nerve endings. It felt as though he were seeing through her, to her very core, searching through every nook and cranny at his leisure. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, nor did she want to.

“I’d like to show you something no one else has seen.”

His words jolted her, awoke her from the trance. A cold draft stole the air around them, the temperature dropping rapidly until her skin broke out in goosebumps.

“I…” her voice sounded weak, frail, unrecognizable. She clamped her mouth shut and took a deep breath, trying again. “I don’t know you. I really shouldn’t…with a stranger and all...” she trailed off, feeling painfully childish yet again.

He flashed a silver grin, revealing a perfect row of teeth. “You’re right. How rude of me. My name is Tom, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He held his hand aloft, his eyes watching, waiting, gleaming.

She wet her lips and smiled tentatively. “I’m Hermione. The pleasure is mine.”

And then she was shaking his hand, once more startled by the cold of his skin and the electrical zap that raced up her spine. It was a bizarre feeling but also quite pleasant, unlike anything she’d experienced before. She bit her bottom lip, holding his intense gaze a full beat before his sharp eyes flickered down, staring at her mouth. She released her lip and held her breath, waiting, waiting…

He released her hand, stepping back and straightening, somehow becoming even taller yet. She did her best to hide the disappointment that accompanied the absence of his cold, charged touch.

“Excellent. Now we aren’t strangers. Would you like to see my laboratory, Hermione?”

She gasped. “Laboratory?” She was aware her voice was high and excited like a child on winter solstice but there was no curbing her enthusiasm. “You’re a scientist?”

“I suppose that’s the best description for it. I’m certainly no musician.”

She blinked, heart stuttering. “That was you playing the violin earlier?”

He cringed, somehow managing to make chagrin look beautiful. “Oh no, you heard me? I’m sorry you had to suffer such a trauma. No wonder you came wandering down here, looking to smash it over my head no doubt.”

“Are you joking? You sounded brilliant! I’ve never heard anything so lovely in my life.”

His eyes searched her face for a long moment, making her blush anew under his scrutiny. Then his expression lightened, lips turning upwards.

“Thank you, Hermione. That’s very kind of you to say. I’m glad you enjoyed it, I never get to play for an audience. Had I known you were listening I would have played something a bit less melancholy.”

She swallowed. “The song was beautiful. It sounded so very familiar, though I’m certain I’ve never heard it before. Is it from a play? Or perhaps a famous composer?”

He shook his head. “Neither. Actually, it is a piece of music I created myself, many years ago.”

Her eyes widened.

_A scientist and a composer?_

She suddenly felt very inept in his presence. He couldn’t be more than a few years older than her and was already so accomplished, so capable. Living in the ruins of a Castle all alone with nothing but his work and a massive snake, it was strange to be certain, but also so alluringly different she found it intoxicating. She was so tired of the monotony of her life in the Village. There was never anything new, anything exciting.

And Tom was certainly something new _and_ exciting.

“Alright…” she began tentatively. “I’d love to see your laboratory.”

His eyes seemed to glow in the flickering lights, inhuman, terrifying, captivating… she was frozen, transfixed, and then he blinked and his eyes were normal once more. She released a breath, questioning her sanity not for the first time that evening.

“Please, this way.”

And then he was turning around, holding out his elbow for her to grasp. She stepped forward and wrapped a trembling hand around his arm, feeling the muscle flex beneath her touch, cold permeating through the dark fabric and chilling her hands, yet spreading a burning fire through the rest of her body. Her heart fluttered rapidly as a hummingbird’s wings beneath her fragile breastbone, making her light headed, weightless.

But his solid frame, his unyielding presence at her side kept her upright and moving forward.

Towards the red door.

Deeper into the unknown.


	6. The Scientist

_I was in the darkness,_  
_So darkness I became._

Hermione drew in a sharp breath as they passed through the open red door, an invisible current in the air sparking across her skin, a gentle and terrifying caress.

But she quickly forgot all feelings of unease as the rest of the room came into view, stealing the air from her lungs. He came to a stop just past the threshold and she stood frozen by his side, body rigid and eyes wide as she traced her gaze over every centimeter of treasure before her.

The room was immense, extending well beyond the narrow foundation of the Tower, some hidden alcove deep underground. The walls were lined with shelves, each containing such an abundance of materials it was amazing they didn’t buckle beneath the weight.

She tried to catalogue the items but they were so many it was difficult to process. She glimpsed countless glass containers, neatly labeled but the writing too small and far away to read. A jar of long, grey feathers, another filled with dried flowers, yet another containing what appeared to be rich brown soil. Innumerous containers of colorful, course powders, strange items suspended in murky liquids…

At the center of the room sat a long table, equally jam packed, though she was able to recognize these items a bit easier. Glass beakers and vials containing bright liquids, a gas burner stationed beneath a copper pot, the flame flickering gently, a steady billow of smoke from the top of whatever brewed within. Papers scattered across the remaining surface area, covered in the same neat print as the labels on the shelves.

Beside the table were stacks of books, large, heavy tombs with worn spines. She blinked, wondering how many books were within the Castle, and how they were transported inside without the Village taking notice.

She felt eyes upon her and turned her head, smiling in embarrassment when she noticed Tom’s gaze fastened to her, bright and steady.

“I… It’s incredible.”

He smiled back, and her heart thumped painfully in her chest.

“I am glad you think so. Are you fascinated by science?”

She unconsciously wet her lips, nodding. “Yes. I am the daughter of the Village physician and my mother is a skilled nurse. I officially begin my training next week, though I’ve been assisting with patients for years now. I’ve read several books on the subjects of chemistry and biology, though my access to such literature is limited. I have never seen anything like this.” She swept her hand around the laboratory, eyes still locked with his.

His grin broadened upon her explanation. “What a clever girl. No wonder you were able to find the hidden door. What fortuity that our paths should cross.”

She blinked, remembering that the hidden door had actually been ajar. Had it been closed she was certain she’d have never discovered it, as well camouflaged as it was. And if he hadn’t been playing his haunting melody she’d never have cause to explore the ballroom in the first place.

But he’d called her clever, and his eyes glowed more brightly than the night stars. She couldn’t bring herself to admit any of this, couldn't bear for him to think her ordinary, to see the sparkle diminish. So she tipped her head in shy acknowledgment of his compliment and returned her gaze to the room.

“May I ask what type of work you do?”

“Of course, please, allow me to show you.”

He stepped further inside, cutting a path to the long table at its center. She followed in his wake, eyes eagerly taking in all the sights. She was fit to burst with questions but managed to quell the urge, patiently awaiting his next words.

“It’s not often I get to explain my work to others, least of all to another professional in the field.”

She laughed lightly. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve studied up on the human condition but that’s about it.”

He glanced sharply over his shoulder, brows drawn. “The field of medicine is challenging and vast. To study human anatomy is to study the foundations of every major scientific field. It is not an endeavour to be taken lightly.”

She released a sharp breath, blushing anew under such praise. She received admiration from the villagers, especially those who had been subject to her care, and her parents often doled out words of encouragement, happy their only child had taken up the long held family mantle of healthcare.

But hearing such words from this mysterious stranger had a profound effect upon Hermione, unlike anything she’d experienced before. It was all she could do not to preen beneath his intense gaze, desperate to impress and bask in his approval.

“I hold the field of medicine in the highest regard, but I suppose I’m a bit biased, seeing as it’s also my main field of study.”

Hermione blinked, her entire body flooding with excitement. “You study medicine?”

He smiled impishly, running a hand along the loose papers scattered across the tabletop. “I try to. More specifically, I attempt to formulate cures for various ailments. I can’t say I’ve been terribly successful. But I continue to experiment. Stopping death in its tracks is a bit of an obsession of mine.”

She walked closer, eyes fastened to the various beakers and containers stacked before her, mind reeling with this revelation. She wanted to ask him so many question, scarcely knowing where to start. She eyed the steady billow of smoke emitting from the large copper pot. She decided to start there.

“What are you working on now?”

He followed her gaze to the brewing pot and his face transformed, excitement marring his features, his movement more animated as he walked over to the concoction. He gazed into the wide lipped opening, picking up a large stir stick and mixing the contents slowly. “This is yet another formulation I’ve derived in an attempt to treat consumption of the lungs.”

Hermione’s eyes widened to saucers. The White Plague was the most feared disease throughout every town along the coast. It was devastating in its effects, extremely contagious, and above all else, incurable.

So far her Village had been fortunate enough to avoid exposure, minimizing risk by closing off trade routes when news of a nearby outbreak reached their doors. Closing trade had its own devastating effects for their residents, especially families living hand to mouth, like the Weasleys, but the sacrifice was made for the welfare of all.

Finding a cure for such an epidemic would be… life changing, monumental to the field of medicine and science the world over. She opened and closed her mouth several times before finding her voice.

“Have you had any success?”

His features pinched, eyes narrowing as he continued to study his brew. “Not as of yet. I have sent samples of my previous batches to clinics treating those afflicted with the sickness. So far I have not been able to fully abate the illness, though my last brew showed a great reduction in symptoms for those showing early signs of infection. I’m hopeful this version will assist those further along in decline.”

Hermione fell into a trance as he spoke, heart beating through her chest. This was surreal. She couldn’t believe she was standing in an underground laboratory hidden beneath a decrepit Castle, little less in the company of such a genius, speaking with him so casually nonetheless. She was tempted to pinch herself. He glanced up at her prolonged silence, expression easing into his breathtaking smile.

“My apologies,” he set the stir stick down, backing away from the bubbling pot. “I tend to get a bit lost in my work. As I mentioned before, I’m not used to having others in my laboratory.”

She shook her head. “Please, don’t stop talking.”

She blinked. _That didn’t come out right…_ She blushed profusely beneath his amused stare.

“I-I meant, don’t stop talking about your work, I find it very fascinating.”

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “What a breath of fresh air you air. Most people in this area are very distrustful of what I do. I’ve had to move around many times, until I was fortunate enough to find this place to conduct my work in peace and privacy.”

Hermione cleared her throat, still burning with her previous embarrassment. “How did you come to discover the Castle?”

His eyes shimmered beneath the burning flame. “It is quite an imposing structure, difficult to miss, even from a great distance.”

She nodded. “Of course. I meant, how did you find these rooms, how did you gain access to the Tower? What inspired you to step foot in the ruins in the first place?”

He tilted his head, eyes roaming her face carefully, as though studying her, making her squirm. His gaze seemed to linger on her mouth for an extra heartbeat before locking once more on her eyes. She swallowed, certain she’d imagined it.

“You are very inquisitive. A true scientist. I find it immensely stimulating.”

She blinked, his wording innocent enough, but causing a flush of heat to flood her limbs, pooling low in her abdomen.

“I was passing through the area on my quest to find a new base of operation. The last town I resided in was not happy to discover the work I was doing. They were not of the same mind as you and I. They preferred prayer over medicine and found my laboratory to be a den of witchcraft. They threw me out quite suddenly and I was desperate to find shelter for the night. I came here with the intent of staying for merely an evening, just long enough to ride out the storm. But I soon grew bored of sitting in silence and took to exploring the grounds, much like yourself. It was happenstance I managed to find the passageway to the Tower, even more fortunate these rooms were relatively unscathed. There was obviously a fire that raged through the building, but it seems this bit of architecture was spared.”

Hermione nodded along, so many more questions brimming to surface as he spoke. Like _how did you get all your books and lab equipment here without anyone noticing? And how did you manage to take all these supplies with you if the town kicked you out so suddenly?_

But she feared asking such questions would make her sound nosy or distrustful, and she didn’t want to damage the pleasant exchange they were having. She was often told by others she was far too inquisitive for her own good, never knowing when to leave well enough alone. So instead of unleashing her onslaught of follow up questions she settled on merely agreeing with him.

“Yes, I noticed all the damage upstairs. It appeared to be a powerful blaze. No one from my Village has spoken of seeing a fire so it must have occured a long time ago.”

He tilted his head once more, she was starting to think it was an unconscious habit.

“What else does your Village say about the Castle?”

She laughed lightly, tucking a curl behind her ear and glancing away. “Nothing of note. I’m afraid many of the residents are very superstitious. There are countless legends surrounding this place that are so fantastical and silly I’m amazed anyone above the age of ten believes them.”

She feared admitting to her Village's superstitious nature would paint her in a similar light, tainting his view of her. She glanced back up, brows drawn. “They’re a bit old fashioned but they mean well. And they’ve been very kind and accepting of my family. I think they’re more open minded than the places you’ve lived before. They wouldn’t shun or banish you, I’m sure of it.”

He watched her carefully, his eyes taking on that eerie, glowing quality that she repeatedly told herself was merely a trick of the light.

“I am sure they are more progressive than most, to produce such a brilliant young woman as yourself. However I think it most beneficial if my work here remain private. Many of the materials I work with are quite volatile, at least when combined, and I would never want to risk injury to an outsider, someone not familiar with the temperamental nature of scientific exploration. I would appreciate it if you could keep my presence here a secret, at least for the time being.”

Hermione nodded quickly.”Of course! I didn’t mean to imply- I was just stating-,” she stopped short, clearing her throat. “I promise, I won’t say anything about you or your work. What you’re doing is very important and could be beneficial to us all, I would never risk compromising such major breakthrough.”

His answering smile positively gleamed in the light and made her weak in the knees, knowing she inspired such a beautiful reaction in him.

“I appreciate your discretion, Hermione.” He tucked his hands in his trouser pockets and backed away from the table, keeping her steady in his gaze. “Since you are staying the evening, perhaps you would like to join me for supper? I understand entirely if you’d prefer to return to the front of the Castle, however I would be delighted for the company, especially someone who shares the same interests and can hold an intelligent conversation.”

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I…” she wet her lips, trying again. “I would love to join you.”

She glanced around, then back to him. “Where do you take your meals?”

He studied her once more beneath the flickering light. “In the Tower.”

She blinked. “You have access to the upper levels?”

He smirked, something quite secretive about the look in which he regarded her with. “Of course, the upper rooms are where I live, the lower level is where I work.”

She felt her heart race anew, breath shortening. She was excited for the opportunity to see the rest of the Tower, the one place none of her friends had been able to venture, even if she was unable to tell them about it, to keep Tom’s existence here safe.

She was also flooded with an inexplicable surge of fear, some warning bell ringing in the far reaches of her mind, though she couldn’t understand the reason for such a reaction. She liked Tom, he was kind, hospitable, and above else, utterly brilliant.

_And dangerous._

She blinked, jolting at the sound of her own voice whispering in her mind. She shook her head, trying to push past the strange feeling, glancing up at Tom in apology for her abnormal reaction and feeling her heart stutter painfully. His face was positively predatory, shadows cast across his eyes, making it seem as if they glowed in the dark like a wild beast, watching, waiting. His smile was still intact but his teeth appeared different, longer, sharper, the canines ivory daggers.

She blinked rapidly and took a step back. Tom took a step closer and in doing so emerged from the shadows, the light once more bringing his face into perfect clarity. She gazed back with wide eyes, mouth open, not understanding her strange hallucination. His face was perfectly normal, devastatingly handsome, but normal nonetheless. She ran a hand over her eyes, still feeling off kilter.

“Hermione? Are you alright?”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, regain her mental equilibrium.

“Yes,” she finally whispered, nodding lightly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

He smiled warmly, eyes sympathetic. “I understand. Being this far below ground can cause all types of strange reactions. I never considered myself claustrophobic but sometimes I feel a bit overwhelmed and have to step out for a few moments. Visiting the upper floors will do you some good, I think.”

She sighed, finally feeling her sanity return to her. She had no idea why she was experiencing these strange visual and auditory hallucinations but she knew it had to have a logical explanation. She also knew she was ready to go upstairs, as much as she admired the lab and would love to explore it further.

So she nodded, smiling when he stepped forward to offer her his arm once more. As they made their way to the exit Hermione felt a light breeze sweep past, running along her skin but leaving her hair and skirts uneffected. She blinked in confusion, wondering where the gust was coming from, and looked up to Tom to ask as much. But he stared ahead, seemingly oblivious to the rush of air.

She worried her lip in confusion, wondering if she was experiencing another strange episode, when she heard a faint scraping sound to her right. She glanced over her shoulder as they neared the doorway, and just before they exited the room she caught sight of another door within the laboratory, constructed of tarnished iron, easily overlooked due to the many shelves framing it.

She opened her mouth to inquire as to its purpose but then clamped her jaw shut, thinking better of it. She assumed it was a storage pantry, filled to the brim with more supplies, and she didn’t want to linger down here any longer.

She faced forward, allowing Tom to escort her into the library, and missed the sight of thin, blood stained fingers peeking out from the narrow gap beneath the iron door.


	7. Dining with Wolves

_Take me to places_  
_That I’ve never been,_  
_To the edge of light_  
_Where darkness begins._

Hermione bit her lip as they cut a path through the library, keeping the massive serpent in the corner of her vision, still braced for it to strike and sink its fangs into her tender flesh.

Tom noticed her rigid stance and glanced down, running the pad of thumb along her knuckles, breaking her from her frightened trance. She swallowed, gazing up demurely.

“I’m sorry… she still frightens me. I know you say she’s harmless but-”

“I never said she was harmless,” he interrupted with a wry grin. “I said she wouldn’t harm _you_. There is a difference, I assure you.”

Hermione released a slow breath, gazing back at the reptile, feeling a chill steal along the length of her spine as the creature watched her with an eerie stillness that hardly seemed lifelike.

“How did you come to own such a pet?”

She did her best to keep her focus on Tom and not the massive beast at their back.

“Nagini was gifted to me many years ago by a village in the far east after I spent several months treating them for marsh fever. One of the children named her. She was a much more manageable size back then, able to wrap around my wrist and travel on my arm. Fast forward to present day and she’s opening doors.”

Hermione smiled at the sound of his deep laugh reverberating pleasantly off the walls.

“How ever did you manage to teach her such a task?”

He hummed low in his throat, gazing over his shoulder and locking eyes with the creature in question. She came to life beneath his stare, bobbing her head and undulating in her spot on stone.

“She’s remarkably intelligent. I admit she is self taught. One day I accidently closed her inside my lab and as I was leaving I heard the door open behind me. She caused me quite a fright that day, I assure you, I reacted in much the same way you did.”

Hermione blushed. “You mean you screamed your head off and promptly fell onto your back side?”

He smirked, placing his hand over hers where it rested on his arms, making her heart race anew. “Not quite, though I admit I did utter a rather undignified shout. Perhaps we can keep both of our colorful reactions a secret? Yet another to add to the ever growing pile.”

She smiled, still lost in the sensation of his hand on hers, such a casual yet intimate gesture that should be off putting, she hardly knew the man. But she couldn’t bring herself to pretend she wasn’t thrilled by his touch. No one was around to witness the transgression, impropriety be damned. She caught enough flack for her affectionate relationship with Harry, who she had long considered a brother. She could only imagine the gossip that would erupt if the elders knew she was conversing so openly with a stranger, alone in the Castle no less.

The idea of breaking the mold society had cast for her since birth was exhilarating, and in the back of her mind she thought this night truly was an Initiation of sorts, certainly not what she’d expected, but no less effective. She wasn’t going to shy away from the prospect of adventure now. She’d be returning to her mundane, uneventful life soon enough. Tonight she would stop over thinking and simply enjoy.

As she made the vow to herself she unconsciously drew her shoulders back, standing taller. She didn’t notice Tom’s eyes flash beneath the torches steady glow, his pupils rapidly expanding and contracting. When their eyes finally connected she saw nothing but calm seas gazing back at her, putting her at ease even as he set her blood aflame.

She gave one last wistful glance over her shoulder at the library before ascending the staircase, Tom following two steps behind like a gentleman, ready to catch her should her clumsy nature rear its ugly head once again this evening.

She drew a deep breath as they emerged in the low ceilinged central chamber of the Tower, once again faced with the three mysterious doors, though she felt far more assured knowing what lay beyond each of them. Of course, she had yet to access the upper Tower, so really, she was only imagining what lie ahead, but statistically speaking-

“It’s fascinating to watch you get lost in thought.”

She spun on her heal, gasping at his close proximity, taking a step back and flushing. The corner of his mouth tipped up.

“It happens to me quite often, but I never have the chance to see it from an outside perspective.”

She smiled tentatively. “I tend to run on a bit in my mind. My friends tell me I overthink things, that I need to learn to be a bit more impulsive.”

He laughed. “If only they could see you now.”

She nodded, feeling a surge of boldness take root within her heart. “Yes. If only.”

He studied her in dimly lit space for several more seconds, the shadow play transforming his face, casting masks of shifting darkness, making the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise. Then he stepped forward, towards her, and she forced herself to stay in place, hands clenched at her sides, only to release a slow breath as he swiftly passed by, walking to the solid metal door and procuring a set of iron keys from somewhere within his dark coat.

She tilted her head and watched as he placed one of the large keys in the equally large keyhole beneath the knob, turning it swiftly and causing a loud click to echo off the stone.

She furrowed her brow.

_How did he come by those? And why does he lock one door and not the other? Shouldn’t he be more concerned about blocking access to his hidden lab rather than his sleeping chambers?_

Tom glanced over his shoulder and, as if he read her thoughts, he supplied her with an answer.

“I discovered these hanging on the wall in the Tower one level up. I only lock the door when I’m not behind it, in case something happens and I’m not able to access the keys. At the very least, I’d like for Nagini to be able to escape.”

She blinked. That made sense, she supposed. But she was slightly annerved he seemed to respond to her mind’s question before she could voice it aloud. He must have been extremely intuitive. She nodded mutely, eyes betraying her eager curiosity as he pulled the heavy door open. Despite its obvious size and age the hinges were silent and seemed to offer him little resistance.

As it opened it spilled more flickering torch light into the chamber, this time from sconces stationed along with winding stone wall above.

“Please, ladies first.”

She smiled hesitantly, slowing stepping forward and gathering her skirts to allow her the ability to follow the narrow steps up, up, up-

“We can dine on the second level, there’s a landing with an arched doorway ahead.”

She nodded, eyes wide as the opening appeared, and as she stepped through it revealed the cozy room beyond.

It wasn’t filled with much beyond a small table surrounded by four chairs, one of which didn’t match the others. There was a threadbare rug laid out beneath and a small chest in the far corner, but beyond that the space was barren, desolate, much as she would have expected an old, ransacked Castle to appear.

She felt her chest deflate slightly at the sight. For some reason she’d expected… well, something more. Something equally grand and mysterious to match the sights of the basement.

“Wasn’t quite what you were anticipating?”

She quickly pivoted on her her heel to gaze up at him. “Oh, no, it’s lovely.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “You’re so very polite. The room is abysmal, but it gets the job done. I hardly ever venture up here, I usually eat downstairs if I remember to eat at all.”

She nodded, peering around the room once more. “I know the feeling. Time tends to get away from me when I’m in the middle of my studies.”

“Seems we have that is common as well,” he stepped deeper into the room. “I’m afraid I don’t have terribly much to offer, had I known I’d be rewarded with your company I would have prepared something, anything other than what I have…” he walked over to the chest, leaning down to open the lid, withdrawing a wrapped bundle and a dark glass bottle.

He turned to face her once more. “I hope cheese, bread and wine doesn’t offend.”

Hermione bit her lip. She hardly ever drank wine, usually only a couple sips at celebrations. But she didn’t want to appear even more childish than she already had earlier in the evening.

“Not at all. Please, allow me to help.”

“There’s a couple goblets in the chest, if you don’t mind.”

She crossed the room, her shoulder brushing his arm as they passed, causing her nerve endings to tingle along the length of the limb. She glanced away with a blush, keeping her eyes averted to the open chest, and then she peered inside and gasped.

Tom glanced over his shoulder as he set the bounty on the table. “What is it?”

She reached down and tentatively touched the gleaming silver.

“Oh, yes,” he said, returning his focus to opening the wine. “Those were a gift I received in Morocco many years back.”

“They’re splendid. I’ve never seen anything so… superb.” She slowly raised the pair of goblets to the light, mesmerized by the ornate etchings along the gleaming metal, her own reflection peering back upside down and distorted.

“I’m pleased you find them appealing.”

His low voice drew her focus, and she felt a fever steal through her veins at the sight of his hooded, storm cloud gaze. She swallowed lightly and slowly approached, sidling next to him in order to set the goblets on the table. He tipped the bottle and poured a healthy amount in both.

She chewed at the inside of her cheek, peering at the deep berry liquid, then glanced up as he moved around her, fingertips grazing her skirts by accident as he pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit.

_Yes, it was certainly by accident._

She smiled nervously as she took her seat, folding her hands primly on her lap as he took the chair at the opposite end, the table so narrow she could easily reach out and touch him.

_What a silly notion..._

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the flurry of useless thoughts and impulses, copying his movements as he raised his own goblet towards her.

“To new friends, and new beginnings,” he said with a slow smile, face devastating and perfect.

Her heart was racing so fast she practically vibrated in her seat, but she managed to hold her own goblet steady as she extended her arm and clinked her goblet gently against his.

“To new friends and new beginnings,” she repeated, too overwhelmed by his close proximity in the low light to comprehend the words.

He watched her steadily over the rim as he took a steady swallow. Her eyes drifted down to watch the gentle convulsion of his throat, the bob of his adam's apple, as she took a delicate sip.

“How is it?” He asked, setting his goblet down before him.

She licked her lips and flushed, scrambling for the mature, proper way to describe the flavor. In truth her palate was unrefined when it came to such beverages.

“It’s delicious.”

He held her gaze a moment longer before chuckling low, the sound so pleasant she hardly minded it was delivered at her expense.

“There’s no need to pretend with me, Hermione. I myself rarely partake in wine. I usually use it as a sleep aid more than anything else. Also as the occasional ingredient for a tonic or brew. I can get some water if you prefer-”

“No!” Her outburst startled them both, making her blush anew. “I mean, no, the wine is good, I like it. I don’t mind it.”

His eyes darted between hers, searching, searching, but she had no idea what he hoped to find. Finally they settled, as did the smirk at the corner of his lips. “Excellent. Wine it is, then. Would you like some bread and cheese? I myself am not hungry at the moment, but please, help yourself.”

She absently traced her fingernails along the etching in the stem of the goblet. She eyed the wrapped bundle on the table and felt her stomach turn at the thought. She was too anxious to eat, her appetite buried beneath the storm of emotions the night was quickly unleashing within her.

“No, thank you, I’m not hungry either.” She blinked. “Did you say you use wine in tonics?”

He smiled. “I do indeed.”

“How fascinating,” she took another sip of wine, this one larger than the first, unbeknownst to her. “Where did you learn to do such a thing?”

“My practices are quite varied, many of my methods borrowed along my travels, traded with others in the field of healing.”

Hermione drew in a breath. “Do you mind if I ask, where have you been?”

He leaned back in his seat, effecting an air of casual calm as he traced a fingertip along the base of his goblet. “You can ask me anything, Hermione.” Her heart stuttered painfully before he continued. “I’ve traveled throughout the Qing Dynasty, New Spain and the Ottoman Empire. I spent time in the Holy City and visited the New World before returning to Europe.”

Hermione felt her heart rate increase. She’d never met anyone who traveled further than the coast line. “That’s incredible. I can only imagine all the amazing sights, everything you experienced.”

“Yes, it is quite astounding. Cultures vary so greatly. And yet through the field of medicine we see just how similar we all are, at the most fundamental level.”

“Did you seek out destinations to treat the ill?”

“Usually. After a while my work became known and villages would send messengers to request my presence when outbreaks would occur.”

“Weren’t you fearful of falling ill yourself?”

His smile took on a breaktaking gleam. “I have been blessed with a strong immunity to most common ailments, it’s what first sparked my curiosity in medicine.”

Hermione felt her chest swell. “How curious. I’m the same way. Both my parents have fallen ill from various afflictions plaguing our village but I always manage to avoid succumbing.”

His eyes dazzled in the flickering light, beautiful, hypnotic. “Fascinating. How lucky we are, to be blessed to be different.”

Something in his wording gave her pause, broke her free from her trance.

“Well we can’t be that different, you just said yourself that medicine is based on the principle that we are all fundamentally the same.”

“Yes. We’re all built of the same materials. But their final arrangements are so vastly unique.” He blinked, seeming to come out of a trance himself. His expression softened around the edges, became more inviting and less intense. “Disease shows us just how resilient and delicate the human constitution truly is.”

She intertwined her fingers in her lap, trying to curb her eagerness. But her face still held open excitement. The wine was singing through her veins, making her cheeks flush.

“What sort of conditions have you treated?”

He tilted his head, long fingers lingering on the stem of his goblet. “As an apprentice I studied Miasma, are you familiar with the theory?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, that certain illnesses are caused by night air, invisible toxins released by rotting organic material, such as Lavernia.”

He raised a dark brow, eyes roaming her face, making her breath shorten. “Very good,” his voice was honey thick, eyes slowly finding their way back to hers. “However I never gave much stock to such archaic beliefs. I am of the theory that Lavernia is caused by insects.”

She blinked. “Insects?”

“The disease is prevalent throughout hot, humid climates where there are an abundance of flying pests that feed off host blood. I think the disease is transferred through these creatures as they move between humans and livestock. It is a more plausible explanation for why the sickness spreads rapidly but doesn’t decimate the entire group. If it were truly airborne then everyone would suffer adverse effects, not just portions of the population.”

Hermione’s mind reeled. “I… yes, that makes sense.”

“I tested the theory by providing local villages with nets to string over their cots and around public markets. As the number of insect bites decreased so did reports of the affliction.”

She shook her head, eyes wide. “That’s… incredible.”

“Hardly. I merely found a way to decrease the chance of exposure. I have yet to find a cure for those already infected.”

“Still…” she wet her lips, once more drawing his gaze lower. “What else have you done?”

The corner of his mouth turned up, as though pleased by her interest, before his expression turned stoic once more. “I take it you’re familiar with yellow fever?”

Hermione inhaled sharply, nodding mutely. Yellow fever had swept through her own Village twice in her lifetime, most recently taking the beloved Molly and Bill Weasley, along with several others. Neighboring towns were hit even harder, she heard, some losing up to half their population in a matter of weeks.

He seemed to understand the nature of her somber mood. “I’m sorry, perhaps we should change the subject-”

“No, please, I am eager to hear what you know about the sickness, it may benefit my Village in the future.”

He nodded slowly. “I was first introduced to it many years ago, when a whaling ship brought the disease to an isolated island community that didn’t know the first thing about treatment. Missionaries traveled there but prayer did nothing to stop the rapid spread, and eventually they succumbed to the Fever themselves. That’s when I was asked to venture out and try to stop the entire population from falling under.”

“Were you able to cure them?”

“Unfortunately no, I was only able to stop it from spreading further. To this day my inability to reverse its effects haunts me. I have been working on finding a cure ever since. The problem is that the Fever is so feared and widespread it is difficult to overcome long held beliefs on treatment, such as turning to medicine instead of prayer alone.”

He drew back in his chair, drumming his fingers along the table top.

“Many illnesses are shrouded in such mystery and reverence that people overlook common solutions.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you heard of beriberi?”

“The weakness disease?”

He smiled, as if once more pleased with her broad knowledge base. “Yes, among other other symptoms such as swelling of the legs and feet, loss of appetite, and sharp pain in the limbs. It’s most commonly found in extremely poor villages, though cases do pop up from time to time in wealthier communities, primarily among those who abuse wine and spirits.”

Hermione glanced to her own goblet with trepidation. His low laugh drew her gaze back. “Not to worry, a glass or two with supper will hardly bring the sickness on. It takes many years of daily dependence before the effects are seen.”

He leaned forward, pinning her with his gleaming stare. “Tell me, Hermione, what do you think the common thread is between beriberi sufferers in destitute villages and those wealthy enough to be overtaken by their vices?”

Hermione felt her pulse throb steadily in each limb under the heated weight of his gaze. Her mind took an extra moment to process his words, the wine and his undivided focus slowing her usual rapid fire thoughts.

Finally, the connection sparked.

“Poor diet? A nutrient deficiency?”

His smile was mesmerizing, eyes glowing brightly beneath the flickering flame. “Brilliant girl.”

She released a slow breath.

“All it takes is a rounded diet inclusive of grains and red meats to lessen the symptoms, eventually eradicating the illness altogether, but suffers are often unable or unwilling to alter their eating habits. They instead rely upon outdated or ritual based treatments that do nothing but provide a temporary placebo effect.”

His words became more clipped as he spoke, fingertip steadily circling the wide rim of his goblet. “I cannot fault people for putting faith in the customs of their culture. But it causes me great frustration to witness unnecessary pain and suffering, especially when prevention and treatment is so readily available.”

He sighed deeply, eyes drifting to a random spot on the table, almost as though he’d forgotten she was there. “Even worse is witnessing barbaric practices take the place of modern convention because people are so terrified of change they’d rather usher in death than innovation.”

Hermione gently cleared her throat, once more catching his attention and finding herself pinned beneath his intense gaze.

“What sort of practices?” she asked tentatively, almost afraid to hear the answer but desperately curious.

“Amputations, bloodletting, trepanning.”

She blinked, spine rigid, a cold chill stealing across her limbs. “People still practice trepanation? I thought it lost popularity with Paganism.”

He shook his head. “It is still widespread throughout the world, either for ritual purposes or as an applied medical treatment. I’ve met a few well appraised physicians who consider it a legitimate cure for seizures, but many merely use it as a way to release evil spirits.”

Hermione swallowed. “How terrifying for the patient, someone already suffering mental anguish made to undergo such a barbaric procedure.”

Tom lifted a shoulder. “I consider the procedure itself to be trivial compared to other invasive acts, it’s the lack of practicality that I find unendurable.”

Hermione tilted her head, studying him carefully. “But surely you’re against such brutal practices, regardless of their efficiency?”

He held her gaze steady. “On the contrary, I have nothing against any treatment as long as it serves a logical purpose, however unorthodox.”

She swallowed, somewhat unsettled by his declaration. She took another long draw of wine, allowing the flood of warmth to suffuse her.

His eyes roamed her at leisure. “I take it you’ve never traveled from your Village?”

His words were delivered without a hint of mockery or scorn but she flushed brightly nonetheless, fumbling to set her goblet down. “Um… no, I haven’t had the means or opportunity unfortunately. I was interested in taking an apprenticeship down the coast, where there’s a larger prevalence of infection and disease brought on by the shipping routes, but my parents staunchly refused, claiming it far too dangerous.”

“They aren’t wrong. Beyond the threat of disease itself, a young beautiful woman shouldn’t be out in the world on her own, no matter how brilliant she may be.”

The wine soothed her frazzled nerves, otherwise she would have surely reacted more strongly to being called beautiful and brilliant in the same breath. Instead her face formed a sardonic smile of its own accord, displaying just a hint of bitterness. “You sound like my parents. And my friends. They think I’m liable to fall into a dark hole the moment they take their eyes off me.”

Tom tilted his head. “On the contrary, I think you far more capable than most. And you’re perhaps the sharpest mind I’ve encountered in years. But your keen intellect can only help you avoid dangerous situations, once you’re in the heat of them, you’re rendered quite helpless.”

His voice went down at the end, as did the lights along the wall. The flames seemed to dim at once, casting shadows around the room, across Tom’s face. And just like that charged moment down in his lab, she felt a thrill of fear course through her, steeling up her spine, making her rear back on a silent gasp.

She blinked one, twice, but his eyes still held their eerie glow, watching her carefully, the rest of his posture eased back in his chair, arm strung casually over the back, the other toying with his goblet. She swallowed, gathering handfuls of her skirts as though poised to run, but finding her legs quite numb.

_“Hermione…”_

She blinked again, heart stuttering. She couldn’t tell where the voice came from, as foolish as the notion was. Obviously it had to have come from Tom, but she was certain she didn’t see his lips move, and the air around her seemed charged, alive, frantic. She found she had trouble breathing.

Tom leaned forward slowly, drawing her focus in, a cheshire grin curving his lips as he folded his arms on the table, intense gaze rendering her motionless like pins through a butterfly wing. His eyes slowly roamed her face, then her neck, then her chest, and slowly ascended back up.

“Since we’re skipping the meal portion of our dinner, perhaps you’d like to see the library again? I noticed your excitement earlier, and I have many rare volumes I think you’d be interested in.”

His voice was deep and steady, more command than request, and she struggled to find her own. She wet her lips and tried to swallow, and suddenly her eyes fell on the goblet.

_Of course! Idiot girl, getting tipsy in the presence of a strange man... how could you be so careless?_

Because surely it was the wine having this effect upon her. There could be no other rational explanation for it.

She drew her gaze back to Tom and he licked his lips, causing her breath to catch. “I should have warned you, this wine is a bit strong compared to most. Perhaps a walk downstairs will clear your head.”

She closed her eyes, hands still clenching her skirts like a vice.

_Say no._

_Tell him goodnight._

_Go get Harry._

She parted her lips and issued a simple. “Okay.”

Her eyes snapped open, dazed. Where had that come from? It was as if some other force had control of her vocal chords, her limbs, directing her movements as she slowly pushed away from the table and stood on unsteady legs.

She placed her palms flat on the table for balance, and suddenly there was a flicker of shadows and Tom was at her side, arm wrapped delicately around her waist and balancing her against his body. She swallowed heavily, gazing up with wide, glassy eyes. She hadn’t seen him stand from his chair, how did he get to her side so fast?

“Shall we?”

His eyes practically burned beneath his long lashes, scorching her through to the core. She nodded weakly, thoughts scattering as his all consuming presence took up shop in the forefront of her mind, pushing all other inclinations to the side.

He awarded her with another disarming, silver grin that stole her remaining breath away, before pulling her further into his lithe frame.

She continued to gaze up at him in a dream like trance, allowing him to walk her back towards the archway, oblivious to the sconces lining the walls behind them, their flames dancing wildly in an invisible current.


	8. White Magic

_So bright the flames burned within our hearts_  
_That we found each other in the dark._

Harry rubbed absently at his eyes, fighting the wave of exhaustion that swept over him as the campfire diminished and the moonlight brightened.

“Fighting the inevitable, Potter.”

Harry scowled over his shoulder. “I thought you passed out already.”

“Had to pretend to get Pansy to shut up.”

Harry rolled his eyes, facing forward once more. The sound of boots crunching leaves sounded behind him as the blonde approached, sitting beside him on the fallen log.

“Are you really going to stay up all night?”

“I never said that.”

“Well I must be psychic then. Also, you’ve been staring at the Castle for hours.”

Harry sighed, carding his fingers through his hair and rolling his stiff shoulders. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“If she wasn’t then she would have said something.”

“Unless she’s hurt, or trapped, or lost-”

“Bloody hell.”

Harry groaned. “I can’t help it.”

“I know, your hero complex is beyond your control.”

“I don’t have a he-”

“How many Initiations have you been to?”

Harry blinked, mouth closing. Draco raised a pale brow.

“Over fifteen of them, at least three times more than anyone else here. And why is that, hm? Because you have to ensure that you’re there to help if someone gets hurt. You’d never be able to forgive yourself otherwise, thinking it was your fault some idiot decided to jump the stairwell and broke both their legs without you to carry them back to the Village.”

Harry drew back. “How do you know how many Initiations I’ve been to?”

Draco’s mercurial eyes burned bright before glancing away, gazing up at the menacing Castle ahead. “Nevermind that.”

“No, seriously, you brought it up, how do you know how many?”

Draco’s expression crumpled into the signature Malfoy sneer, a mirror image of his father, the Village magistrate.

“It’s not difficult to discern, we know all the same people.”

“But we don’t socialize with all the same people.”

“That’s because your friends are idiots.”

Harry smirked. “You’re calling Mione an idiot?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Fine, you have one friend with a working brain. But if you average her intelligence with the ginger lap dog that circles your feet at all hours of the day then you get barely one functional person.”

Harry shook his head, smiling despite himself. “You’ll never change.”

A heavy silence fell over the campground, punctuated only by the crackling fire and heavy breathing of their sleeping friends. A nasally snore sounded above the rest, causing both men to exchange amused looks.

“Pans still sounds like a steam whistle.”

“You should hear her when she passes out after a night of drinking. The foundation shakes.”

Harry’s lips curved a sardonic smirk. “I remember.”

He studied the Castle walls as her snoring once more leveled out to a rumbling drone. The structure was painted in shadows, a formidable black mass backlit by the full, glowing moon. It looked even more ethereal, more sinister without any discernible details.

His focus was broken by the blonde’s low voice.

“It’s not true you know.”

Harry raised a brow, glancing over. “What’s not true?”

“What you said before, about me not changing. I have changed. You just wouldn’t know since you never come around.”

Harry blinked, heart thumping painfully in his ribcage. “I thought you didn’t want me coming around anymore.”

Draco turned his head sharply, eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Harry drew in a slow breath, pulse throbbing. “You started hanging out with Theo and Blaise… started dating Tori… I thought you were content with your new friends.”

Draco watched him steadily in the flickering light, shadows dancing along their faces. “They used to be your friends, too.”

“Yeah, well technically Ron was your friend, once upon a time-”

“Don’t get me started.” Draco rolled his eyes, facing front once more.

Harry slowly turned his head forward as well, electrical pulses stealing across his skin in the space between heartbeats. He swallowed heavily, mustering every ounce of courage that remained despite his exhaustion and frayed nerves.

“I thought you didn’t want me around anymore… after… what happened.”

The silence was deafening, all consuming. Harry instantly regretted the words, wished he could recall them, burn them in a fiery blaze, destroy the evidence and wash this humiliating moment from both their minds. Draco was deathly still beside him, hardly seemed to breathe while Harry kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, hoping to fade into the background.

“That’s not what I wanted.”

The words were whispered so quietly they practically scattered on the wind, but Harry heard them loud and clear, close as they were sitting, as quiet as their surroundings were. Even the neighboring woods were silent, encasing both young men in a bubble where nothing existed outside of their fidgeting limbs and nervous breaths.

Harry swallowed again, still unable to make eye contact. They hadn’t talked about… the _incident_ … since it happened nearly two years prior. And if it wasn’t for the rift it caused between them he’d be tempted to think he imagined it all in his head.

But it happened. It was real. He replayed it in his mind more times than he was willing to admit and now they were actually talking about it… he thought his heart might explode.

“You avoided me after,” he said slowly. “I could tell something had changed. I gave you space, gave you some time, but you never came around. I figured you wanted things this way.”

“You never came around either.”

Harry’s hands clenched at his side, finally turning his head to gaze at the pale blonde’s aristocratic profile. “Your personality changed. You started making fun of me and my friends-”

“I’ve always been a cruel, sarcastic arse, Potter.”

“Not to me.”

Now Draco turned his head as well, locking gazes, the moment charged and electric.

“You know you didn’t want me coming around anymore,” Harry continued. “Don’t pretend otherwise. I felt it, in every word, in every action, you wanted nothing to do with me.”

Draco swallowed, body swaying slightly where he sat. “I didn’t-”

“You started calling me Potter.”

Draco blinked. “I…”

“So I started calling you Malfoy. And now here we are.”

The world around them fell away, nothing existing but the rotten log and patch of scorched earth beneath them, suspending them above a swirling black abyss from which there was no return, no escape.

Draco let out a slow, uneven breath. “You know who my father is, Harry.”

Hearing his first name from the blonde’s lips, even whispered as it was, had a profound effect upon Harry. He swallowed convulsively, unconsciously leaning closer, until their shoulders touched, making every nerve ending in his arm catch flame.

“I’ve known your family my whole life.”

“Then you know they aren’t anything like yours. They would never-” Draco stopped short upon Pansy's high pitched snore echoing through the air, breaking the spell that had woven around them.

He cringed, rearing back, shaking his head and looking away. Harry closed his eyes, inhaling sharply and facing forward, feeling a sudden cold permeate his bones.

“There’s no point talking about this,” Draco said sharply. “It doesn't matter. It was a stupid thing that happened, and it will never happen again. We can’t ever mention it-” Suddenly the blonde’s head whipped around, eyes narrowed in accusation. “Have you told anyone?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “What do you think?”

“I think you tell Granger and that bumbling idiot you call a best friend every detail of your day, starting with how you season your eggs in the morning.”

“Trust me, if Ron knew then you’d hear about it.”

“And Hermione?”

Harry released a frustrated sigh, shaking his head angrily. “Relax, _Malfoy_ , your dirty secret is safe with me.”

He was looking away, so he missed the flash of hurt that stole across Draco’s features before he once more schooled his face to a mask of indifference. “Good,” he bit out. “See that it stays that way.”

And then Draco stood, fingers curling into fists briefly before folding casually behind his back. “I’m going to bed,” he said in his bored drawl, perfected over years of listening to his father deliver lectures to the Counsel and in his courtroom. “I would suggest you try to do the same, but I know I’d be wasting my breath. Good night, Potter.”

Harry fought back a cringe at hearing his surname delivered without a hint of emotion, without a trace of the loaded exchange they just had. Draco gazed upon him for longer than strictly necessary, but Harry refused to look up, refused to play this game any longer.

“Goodnight, Malfoy.”

Another heavy beat of silence passed before Draco was walking back towards the dying fire, to the pile of bodies composed of their friends, some more estranged than others, but all huddled together to retain warmth no matter their differences. Harry felt a cold wind brush past, but he refused to seek warmth from the group, to go near Draco again tonight.

Instead he tipped his emerald gaze back up to the monstrous Castle, the rigid, indomitable Tower at its center, and swallowed heavily.

“Mione…” he whispered, voice lost on the whistling wind. “I’m right here,” he vowed, gaze fixed upon the faint outline of the Tower window. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

Hermione stood breathless, mesmerized, enraptured.

Her eyes flickered from one title to the next, fingers twitching at her sides, eager to touch, covet, worship.

Tom stood beside her, tall, dark and ominous, yet his face was awash in pleasure and amusement as he watched her sway on her feet in front of the bookcase.

“Easy,” he murmured, low and gentle, stepping in close to place a hand against her lower back, lightly pressing in.

She swallowed and pulled her gaze away. “I can’t… It’s… They’re so…”

He smirked. “You may touch them, you know.”

Her eyes widened, bright and eager. “Really? But aren't they delicate? I don’t want to cause any damage-”

“Hermione,” he admonished without scorn. “Stop staring and pick one.”

She bit her lip, his stormy eyes tracking the movement, but she was already flush with excitement and wine, any lingering embarrassment buried to the depths of her mind. She turned her gaze back to the priceless volumes lined up before her.

She lifted an arm, her fingers trembled lighty, hovering over the spine of _De Re Anatomica Libri XV_. Her breath hitched, she wet her lips and moved her hand further along the row, fingertips gently grazing _Traité des maladies des femmes_.

She hesitated once more, then shook her head lightly, moving her hand in the opposite direction.

“I’ve never seen anyone react this way to literature. Not even myself.”

She laughed, high and nervous, responding over her shoulder.

“They’re all incredible, beautiful… but I want the first one I touch to be something profound. Something special.”

She was still staring at the stack and missed the flash of lightning that sparking in the depths of his gaze, fixed on her every movement from his hovering spot at her side. His hand was still pressed into her lower back, long fingers clenching the fabric like claws before his hand fell once more to his side.

“Perhaps this one,” she murmured, more to herself than him, tipping her head as she read the title at an angle. “ _De Mortu Cortis_.”

“ _On the Motion of the Heart_ ,” he translated without missing a beat.

She blinked, glancing at him once more. He held her gaze, smiling. “The first detailed description of the human circulatory system. A worthy candidate for your attention.”

She returned his smile. “I shall keep that in mind.”

She laughed again as he shook his head in amusement, allowing her to take her time perusing the remaining titles. She was overwhelmed with the selection, so many fascinating-

Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes alighted on a worn spine that appeared no different than the many books surrounding it, yet it somehow pulsated from within its narrow spot.

She let out a slow breath, eyes transfixed. Her hand darted towards it without hesitation, and the moment her fingertips grazed the binding she felt a wild thrill seize her, much like the electrical current that charged her limbs when Tom touched her for the first time. She gasped as the sensation lighted across her skin.

Tom watched her carefully, a wicked grin slowly unfurling across his face, unbeknownst to her.

_This one._

She smiled at the quiet whisper in her head, holding her breath as she slid the book from the row with a delicate touch.

“ _De Hortus Sanitatis_ …” she read aloud, holding it in both hands, staring unblinking at the cover.

“ _Garden of Health_ ,” he supplied, sidling closer. “The perfect choice, I should have guessed you’d pick that one.”

She glanced up, brow raised. “Really? Why?”

He tipped his head, scanning her face. “It’s filled with healing elixirs and spells.”

“Spells?”

His eyes flickered between hers. “Yes, white magic.”

She glanced back to the title, sweeping her fingers across the cover. “I didn’t expect you to have such a book in your collection.”

He pressed in close, his bicep grazing her shoulder. “It is a fusion of late medieval science and folklore, a detailed collection of plants, herbs, animals and minerals. It combines elements of natural history with mythical fantasies and fables. And yes, it contains a list of spells.”

She was hypnotized by his words, lulled into such a trance that even when he stopped speaking his voice seemed to continue on in her mind.

_Don’t you want to see them?_

“I’d like to see them,” she said, undaunted.

His expression didn’t change but his eyes looked immensely pleased. He stepped behind her, pressing in against her back and covering her hands with his. She swallowed thickly, incased by his heat and masculine scent, dizzy with it.

“Allow me to show you.”

He directed her hands, opening the worn cover and gently paging through the delicate papers within, beautiful, detailed annotations of plants and flowers flickering past. She also saw illustrations of people, but the pages moved too quickly to discern what they were doing.

“Here,” he murmured, low beside her ear, sending chills down her neck. He stopped at a page near the back, tight scrawl littering the page. “This starts the set. Spells to bring about bountiful harvest, healthy crops, and improved health and vitality.”  
She blinked, trying to focus on the text before her and finding it a Herculean task. She swallowed nervously, struggling to find her voice.

“Surely a man with your background doesn’t give credence to such outlandish beliefs?”

He tilted his head, studying her as she studied the page. “On the contrary, a good deal of these practices are based upon the most basic principles of scientific theory, stemming from man’s earliest understanding of the elements surrounding him and the effects upon his person. The supernatural entity merely derived as a means of explaining the unseen relationship between man and nature.”

Such lively debate helped ground her. “Well, _that_ I can understand, I suppose… but some of these spells… take this one for instance,” she pressed her finger along an excerpt on the page. “This claims that the necessary ingredients must be harvested only on the full moon to receive the maximum benefit of the tonic.” She glanced up with expectant eyes. “Surely you can agree that these superfluous details are nothing but superstitious nonsense.”

His lips curled into a grin that appeared both dashing and secretive. “If my travels have taught me one thing it’s that an open mind can take you further than any ship, wagon, or horse.”

She deflated slightly, still surrounded by his long limbs and unyielding chest. She felt terribly uncultured, unworldly, compared the man before her. He had traveled to the farthest reaches of the earth, walked across lands she’d never even seen maps for, witnessed things she could never hope to fathom in her finite experience.

He must have noticed her change in mood.

“I meant no offense, Hermione.”

She tilted her head up to look at him over her shoulder, faces so close his lips nearly grazed her cheek.

“I’m not offended, I’ve just never been so aware of the limitations of my circumstances. You’ve already done so much in such a short time. I would give anything to experience the world as you have. Just to be able to leave my village even once.”

His eyes became hooded as they gazed down upon her. “And where would you go if given the opportunity?”

She had played this game many times with Harry, the two of them staying up late into the night laughing and describing the extravagant life they’d have if money and family ties weren’t obstacles.

“I’d like to see the world, everything it has to offer, everything that makes each land unique. But my first stop would be India.”

He raised a brow. “Why India?”

She inhaled sharply, an excited thrill stealing across her shoulder blades and down her spine.

“The culture sounds breathtaking. And I’ve always longed to ride an elephant.”

Her childish admission seemed to amuse him deeply, he laughed, gaze warm and inviting, carefully studying her face.

“Did you know that in India there is an ancient text known as Atharvaveda, one of the earliest compilations of medical doctrines known to man?”

Her eyes gleamed in the flickering light. “No, how extraordinary. Have you seen it?”

“Alas, I have not. But I have spoken to those who have, and know that it is considered a knowledge storehouse of the procedures of everyday life. It is composed of many different treatments, ranging from surgical and medical instructions, to charms against fever and disease, herbal remedies, and spells to protect one’s health and loved ones.”

She blinked, leaning her head lightly against his shoulder to examine him more closely. “And you approve of such a thing?”

He seemed pleased by her innocent gesture. “Why wouldn’t I?”

She shrugged, or attempted to, encased as she was.

“Didn’t you just say upstairs that you abhor the reliance on supernatural forces, opposed to a legitimate scientific approach to medical care?”

The corner of his mouth lifted, something in his expression looking supremely satisfied. “I said that I dislike the reliance on prayer alone. I don’t discourage anyone from partaking in it, especially as a means of boosting morale for the ill, but there still needs to be a practical application of treatment for serious ailments.”

She contemplated his words, thoughts still running a bit slow thanks to the wine in her bloodstream. “There’s a difference between spells and prayer?”

He hummed low in his throat. “In some cases it may be a fine line, but generally yes, the practices are derived from different sects of belief systems.”

Her eyes flickered across his face as he spoke, mezmorized. “How do you know all this?”

His eyes held hers intently for another heavy beat, and then to her great surprise and disappointment his hands released hers, his arms falling to his sides as he took a step back. Her body pulsated with some latent desire she couldn’t begin to make sense of. She blinked, bereft of his warmth, the unyielding shield at her back.

“I have had to learn quite a bit about the occult to better relate to my patients in certain parts of the world.”

She struggled to regain her barings, feeling terribly foolish to react so strongly to his touch, and even stronger to the removal of said touch...

“That is all very interesting,” she tucked a stray curl behind her ear, focusing upon the spells in her hand, trying to regain focus. “I can see why you would find it fascinating to research in conjunction with your other work, especially given the varied beliefs of the patients you treat.”

Her hazel gaze snapped up, lighting upon him as he casually leaned against the bookcase just beside her, hands tucked into his trouser pockets. She wet her lips, forcing her eyes not to stray from his. “But you don’t actually believe in… in _magic_ , do you?”

His cloudy gaze flickered to her mouth, lingering, pressing against her chest and expelling the breath from her lungs. “I believe in the power of the human mind and body.”

She blinked, clearing her throat lightly, regaining his attention. His eyes snapped up, locking with hers. It did nothing to calm her nerves.

“That’s not an answer.”

He smirked, wry and secretive.

“Isn’t it?”

She suddenly felt a great weight in her limbs, like they were made of lead, sinking her to the floor, through the stone, deep into the earth.

“It’s getting late,” he said abruptly, as though reading her mind and stepping away from the bookcase.

She blinked again, remembering that there were no windows to provide a frame of reference. No wonder she felt exhausted.

“Oh… yes, I suppose it is.”

“I hate the thought of you sleeping on the stone floor, especially at the entrance, it’s utterly filthy.”

She wasn’t thrilled at the prospect either. Alas, it was all she had. She forced a smile. “It’s alright, I have a blanket and it’s only one night-”

“I do not wish to step out of line, but I’d like to offer you one of the spare bedrooms in the Tower for the evening.” He stepped into her personal space once more, causing her to crane her neck to maintain eye contact. “They’re dusty for certain, but otherwise intact, and I believe you will find the bed quite comfortable.”

Her heart lurched in her chest, skin tingling all over as though a build up of static electricity was in the air.

“Oh, I… that’s very kind of you…” Her mind raced but she couldn’t grab hold of a single coherent thought to cling to. The only thing she knew for certain was she should politely refuse the offer. It was the proper thing to do.

_The safe thing to do._

She forced the thought away as she gazed at him apologetically. “I should stay by the doors, in case Harry needs to speak with me-”

“Harry?”

She jolted, his voice deepening, eyes darkening. The shadow he cast along the far wall seemed to swell to twice the size. She took a step back, blinking rapidly.

“Yes… Harry, my friend...”

“Of course.” He seemed to deflate before her eyes, the shadow on the wall transforming once more to normal size, the wings at its back folding into place. She shook her head, feeling foolish for imagining such a thing.

“But thank you again for the offer, I-”

“No need to thank me, Hermione. The rooms aren’t mine, neither is the Castle, I’m merely an interloper, same as you.”

His gentle tone calmed her racing heart. She smiled tentatively. “I dare say you’ve made better use of the premises than anyone who’s come before.”

“That is debatable.” He stepped to the bookcase once more, reaching out and grabbing another title from the row. “Here, please allow me to offer you reading material for the night, a distraction from the hard floor and cold draft.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.”

“I have an ulterior motive. I would love to hear your opinion on the subject of the texts. I am starved for lively conversation.”

She bit her lip before reluctantly admitting, “I’ll be leaving at first sunrise.”

“I know.” Lightning flashed in his gaze. “Take them with you. You know where to find me when you want to exchange them for another.”

“I…” She hesitated, knowing full well what she _should_ say, but the prospect of seeing him again was too great a temptation to resist. Not when he was standing this close, warmth radiating from his body into hers.

“Alright.” Her voice sounded breathy to her ears. “Thank you.”

He grinned, teeth gleaming. “Excellent. May I escort you back to the entryway?”

She was perfectly capable of finding her own way back. She didn’t need his assistance. And yet- “Yes, thank you.”

They made it to the base of the Tower before he broke the silence, glancing at her over his shoulder, his resigned expression something she recognized all too well, the goodbye already playing out in her mind’s eyes. She was barely aware he’d started to speak.

“It’s been-”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

He blinked, coming to a standstill. “Pardon?”

She cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly on her feet, pulse thrumming wildly. She forged ahead before her mind had time to catch up with her heart. “I would like to stay in one of the spare bedrooms, if the offer is still open.”

The silence that followed was so thick she breathed it in, felt it fill her throat and lungs.

“Of course.” His voice was steady, hypnotic, his eyes two burning embers in the dark. “Follow me.”

She followed him up the stairs in a daze, legs stiff but functional, her body awash with adrenaline, her head swimming with trepidation and anticipation-

“I hope this will be alright.” He came to a stop before a large door, pushing it open with ease. He stepped aside, allowing her to enter before him.

Their shoulders brushed, she bit her lip, focusing her gaze on the room within, hoping to distract her galloping heart.

“There’s others I could show you-”

“No, this is… this is perfect.”

The room was mesmerizing. Untouched by thieves or vandals, the only evidence of time gone by the thick layer of dust marring the surface of the furniture. Thick rugs covered the stone floor, a large four poster bed sat at the center, a gauzy canopy at top. The large armoire housed a mirror, reflecting the dancing light in the hall.

Tom pulled a torch from its holder and started to ignite the sconces along the wall.

“I’m starting to realize you find the beauty in everything.”

She smiled to herself, walking deeper into the room, eyes wide in wonder. “There _is_ beauty in everything.”

He glanced over his shoulder, brow raised. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Certainly.” She spoke without thought, the words rolling out effortlessly from some place deep within her. “Everything on this earth is unique, one a kind. From each blade of grass to each cloud in the sky and every creature dwelling in between. All of it is splendent it its own way.”

“I think you mean splendid.”

She flashed a wry grin. “I know what I said.”

He finished igniting the sconces, cutting a path towards her in the center of the room. “You also find light in everything?”

She tipped her head, eyes focused on the dancing flame in his hand. “We are never without light, thanks to the sun and the moon.”

His eyes flickered between hers, bright, searching. “There are places of absolute darkness, Hermione.”

She sighed, shrugging lightly. “Well if you’re going to be _technical_ about it, of course there’s cave systems and-”

“Places within people.”

His words gave her pause, the intensity of his voice and gaze creating an invisible cloak of shadows, filling the room with a heavy somberness.

“Some people are without a shred of light, a shred of beauty or hope,” he continued, voice lowering, causing her to unconsciously lean closer, straining to hear every word.

She swallowed instinctively, eyes transfixed, a deep sadness breaking open within her.

“I don’t believe that. No one is without hope.”

He tipped his head, eyes sweeping her face, down her body… “You’ve seen very little of the world.”

She bristled, taking an automatic step back. “I don’t need to travel to the opposite end of the earth to know what the sky looks like. It’s as you said before, we’re all different on the outside, but all the same at our innermost core.”

“I’m not speaking of biology. I’m talking about choices-”

“I know what you’re talking about.” Her voice was clipped, the effects of the wine finally wearing thin, her mind returning in full force. “I may not be worldly but I’ve read philosophy books. Our choices can lead us down a path of ruin, that is true. But they can also lead us back.”

“Back? To redemption?” His voice sounded twisted, mocking, his eyes gleaming in the flickering light, dancing with malevolence. It sickened her.

“No,” she shook her head, squaring her shoulders, standing her ground. She was unaware of the change that overcame her, the way her eyes glowed otherworldly, the way the flames on the walls danced high in their holders, as though propelled by the force of her conviction alone.

“Back to the start,” she tossed her hair back, the curls caught in an invisible breeze. “Back to the light.”

Tom was rendered mute, eyes fastened upon her for several long, tumultuous heartbeats. She started to feel distinctly uncomfortable, foolish, she’d gone to far-

“I find myself wanting to argue the matter simply to hear you speak with such passion.”

She blinked, then his words took root in her mind, the meaning of his intense gaze, and she blushed hotly.

“However I will refrain from the temptation, as it is quite late, and I have lingered in your chamber long enough.”

She wet her lips, mouth going dry, his eyes pulling her in, closer, closer...

“In the library you asked me whether I believe in magic.”

She held her breath, his words putting her into another trance. She found she quite enjoyed whatever strange spell this was…

“I do.”

She jolted awake, blinking up at him, raising her brow. “Really?”

“Yes. I can think of no other explanation.”

She tilted her head, confused. “Explanation for what?”

“The effect you’ve had upon me in the short time since we’ve met,” he stepped closer, closer, until their breath merged as one. “You’ve utterly bewitched me.”

Hermione never considered herself the swooning type, she’d certainly never fainted before, but suddenly her knees gave out completely, and the only thing that kept her upright was his arm around her waist, an iron band that kept her feet rooted to the earth. If he removed his touch then surely she would float away...

“I speak out of turn,” he whispered across her lips, eyes burning a trail across her face and neck. “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“No…” her voice sounded foreign to her ears, distant, fragile. She swallowed, summoning every last reserve of strength and will power she possessed. “You haven’t. I…” She licked her lips, body jolting against his as his eyes tracked the movement, raw hunger in their depths. “I am flattered.”

She felt the steady throb of her pulse throughout her entire body, her core molten, turning her limbs to wax. She melted into him, they fit so perfectly…

His lips hovered above her own for several gasping breaths, she closed her eyes, tipping her head back, surrendering-

And just as suddenly as the strange spell seized her...

It broke.

Reality crashed over head as he abruptly pulled back, his hands gently peeling her limbs from his, separating their bodies into two distinct life forms once more. They no longer shared one ragged breath, one frantic heartbeat…

She swayed lightly on her feet, too shocked by the encounter to feel proper embarrassment, though she knew that would set in later, once she was afforded the mind numbing silence necessary to obsess over the duration of her evening.

His expression looked strained as he slowly backed away from her, hands raised as though to keep her at bay, as if she would leap forward and attack him at the slightest provocation…

_Or maybe he’s trying to keep himself at bay..._

She swallowed thickly, body still pulsating with an awakened need that wouldn't settle, wouldn’t go back into remission. Not with him still in the room.

He paused in the bedroom doorway, eyes reflecting the light like a cat in the dark, fixed upon on her with an eerie stillness that sent thrills along her spine, but not out of fear.

“Sleep well, Hermione.” His voice sounded thick with gravel. She instinctively clenched her thighs.

“Goodnight.”

He lingered there for a moment longer… and then a moment more, and a wild part of her hoped he’d still be on her side of the door when it closed-

But then he stepped back, bowing his head and departing into the corridor, and when the heavy door finally shut she had only her racing heart and mind to keep her company.


	9. Black Magic

**A/N:** Thank you to stille-und-regen for the beautiful Tumblr artwork which inspired me to write this chapter!

* * *

_Alas for those girls who’ve refused the truth,_  
_The sweetest tongue has the sharpest tooth._

Hermione had no hope when it came to sleep.

Not after _that_ encounter.

She laid on the bed, staring blankly at the silk canopy, heart still racing.

_What’s gotten into me?_

She rubbed her eyes, rolling to her side, gaze falling upon the book he had selected from his collection. Reading material to pass the time, he had said.

She certainly had time to pass.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, leaning against the tall headboard, and picked up the tome.

The cover was solid black, the spine well worn.

Touching it sent shivers down her arms and spine.

She blinked, glancing about the windowless room, wondering if a draft was coming in from some gap in the wall. Alas, everything seemed to be in order. She shook off the feeling, gazing once more at the item in her hands. There were no markings on the cover, she opened to the first page looking for the title.

Her brows drew together as she realized the front page was covered in a foreign text. She tilted her head, studying the writing, trying to find a familiar looking symbol, anything to indicate what language it could be.

She wondered why Tom had given her a book she couldn’t read. Surely he didn’t think she was well versed in foreign or ancient languages, being confined to the village her entire life.

But as she thumbed her way deeper into the pages, she came across detailed illustrations, and quickly understood the appeal.

In the drawing before her a man levitated high off the earth, gazing upon the sprawling landscape below, a human bird in flight. She ran a fingertip over the mountain ranges, and suddenly she felt herself lift off the bed, wind in her air, clouds surrounding her.

Hermione gasped, releasing the book, glancing about with wide eyes.

She was still seated upon the mattress, within the bedroom, inside the Tower, at the heart of the mysterious castle.

She wet her lips, gazing down at the book with wonder and trepidation.

Dropping it caused it to open to a new page.

The image staring back at her practically pulsated off the paper.

Hermione swallowed, carefully picking it back up, breath caught in her throat.

A large symbol took up the page, composed of thick black lines, so straight and even they had to be made with an edging tool. She reached out a tentative hand to slowly trace one of the lines.

Something sparked against her fingertip, causing her to draw her hand back with a yelp.

“What on earth?” she whispered, blinking rapidly, feeling her stomach clench painfully the longer she stared upon the dark design.

The air slowly dissipated from the room, making her light headed, a faint buzzing in her ears.

_“Hermione…”_

She snapped the book shut, tossing it to the other side of the bed.

The pressure in the room normalized, her senses returning.

_Enough of that._

She laid down, staring up at the canopy once more, sleep as foreign to her as the words within the book.

* * *

Tom paused outside the red door, glancing over his shoulder to the loyal beast at his back.

“Find some mice. Neither of our guests are to be your dinner tonight.”

Her gleaming red gaze narrowed.

“Don’t give me that look. Now go, and when you’re done resume your post outside her door.”

The serpent bobbed her head, massive body undulating before she took off through the library, crossing the stones at rapid speed.

Tom faced forward once more, opening the door to his lab and striding inside, closing it soundly behind him.

He heard the faint scraping sound to his right. He glanced to the iron door.

And raised a dark brow.

“You’re up early.”

He made his way to the table, peering into the copper pot, carefully examining the brew bubbling inside.

“Color is better this time. I think this batch will be far more successful.” He backed away, opening a small cupboard on the wall and grabbing a vial filled with a glowing blue liquid.

“I hope our newest visitor didn’t wake you. She was fascinated by the lab, and I got a bit carried away myself. I so seldom get to share my work with those who appreciate the sciences.”

He crossed the room, placing a hand on the iron handle, pulling hard, the door slowly giving way beneath his touch.

To reveal a room bathed in darkness.

Chains scraped against stone.

“Come now, don’t be shy, it’s just me.”

Rattled breathing could be heard, echoing off the barren walls.

Tom stood in the doorway, his shadow cast upon the opposite wall, stretching across the floor and ceiling.

“Don’t you want your medicine?”

The huddled figure jerked, chains rattling, slitted yellow eyes gazing up through magled, dirty hair.

Tom tipped his head, sighing.

“You’re upset.”

The figure scowled, turning its marred face away from the light.

“I know I promised you this was the last night. But our visitor isn’t what I was expecting. I’m afraid we have to prolong our trial.”

They released a low, sinister growl, muscles tense, ready to spring.

“None of that now. You know what happened the last time you tried to attack. Do you really want to go through all that again?”

They spit on the ground, aiming for his feet, missing by a mile.

“I suppose I deserve that. And I promise you, we’ll use the next visitor. They come every full moon like clock work. Generation after generation. It never fails.”

Tom took a step into the room, slowly crouching down, carefully setting the vial on the stone floor.

“Don’t let your stubbornness get the best of you. You know what happens when you skip a dose.”

The chains dragged as the figure pressed into the wall, watching him carefully through a narrow, gleaming gaze.

“I’m truly sorry.” Tom’s eyes gleamed in turn, arms resting on his knees as he spoke from his crouched position. “The girl…” he shook his head, lost to thought. “She’s special. I can’t use her. Not for this.”

He held the creature’s gaze, a determined glint in his eyes.

“But rest assured, I’m keeping her all the same.”

* * *

Hermione didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she opened her eyes.

She blinked, the sconces dim, the room a blurred of swaying shadows. She gazed around the room, forgetting where she was for a brief, heart pounding moment.

Then her evening came crashing back upon her like a tidal wave, sweeping her off her feet. She released a sigh, rolling to her side.

And then she heard a sound.

She realized at once it was the same noise that woke her in the first place.

The sound of the bedroom door opening.

She sat up quickly, heart racing, rendered frozen in terror. Long, elegant fingers curled around the door, and a dark mass slowly emerged. She swallowed, pressing back into the headboard, hands clutching the bedding.

And then the mass took solid form.

A man stood before her, eyes burning brightly in the dark. Inhuman.

She blinked, thoughts scattering.

“Tom?” Her voice sounded faint, distant.

He stepped forward, the door closing behind him of its own accord. She felt her limbs go lax beyond her control.

And then he was crossing the room, stride sure and certain, eyes unblinking, fixed upon her, pinning her in place with their eerie glow.

She attempted to speak again but her voice evaded her. She opened and closed her mouth, rendered mute by some unseen force, locked in place as he neared. Finally, he stood before her, arms relaxed at his sides.

“Hello, Hermione.”

His voice shook the floor and rattled the walls, jagged seams tore through the stone, sending dust and debris crashing to the floor.

She was breathless, hypnotized by his gaze, barely registering the hand that reached for her, fingertips grazing her cheek, sending sparks across her skin, reminiscent of touching the dark image in the book, but far more pleasant.

He moved closer yet, sitting on the bed. His weight caused her to slip down the mattress, pressing against him. Warmth radiated from his body, wrapping around her like a blanket. And yet she trembled, pulse alive and thrumming through each limb.

 _What do you want?_ She meant to ask, had she a voice to speak with.

Though the answer to such a question terrified her. Not for what he may say, but for what he may not say.

_Do you feel the air shift and the ground quake at the mere thought of me?_

_Am I alone to suffer this pain? This madness?_

Because it most assuredly was a form of madness. Insanity. A disease of the mind that masqueraded as one of the heart, tying her arteries into a pretty bow that would kill her with the next stuttered beat.

He leaned in, face tilting and hovering above her own, mouths aligned and separated by an endless sea. His eyes bore into hers, and her mind went stunningly blank.

“You aren’t alone,” he whispered, the words glancing off her lips. “Not anymore.”

The hand at her cheek slid around to her nape, fingers grasping her neck, thumb resting against her frantic pulse. She searched his gaze, desperate for _something_ , something she couldn’t name, couldn’t identify, yet needed more than air, more than water.

And as if he could read the desperate plea in her eyes, he closed the distance between them, lips grazing hers softly, tentatively, before pulling back, fire burning in his eyes.

She could see the strain in his muscles, the tension throughout his entire body as he held himself back, sought permission. She wasted no time lunging forward, limbs unfrozen at last, and pressed her mouth to his once more, arms wrapping around the back of his neck and nearly toppling them both to the floor.

He growled low in this throat and leaned forward, tipping their weight into the mattress.

She landed in a slow sprawl beneath him, their lips separating long enough for her to see his face, concealed behind a mask of shadow from which only his eyes were visible. A storm raged inside them, matching the chaos within her heart.

He leaned down, their bodies pressing, smoldering through the fabric of their clothing, as he resumed their kiss.

There was nothing subtle or tentative about it this time.

He devoured her, took the breath from her lungs, causing her to gasp for air. His tongue slipped past her parted lips, exploring the sweet caverns within. She moaned, melting into the mattress, lost to this strange and sensational feeling blossoming within her. Warmth permeated her core and spread through her middle, racing along her spine and making her light headed.

She tipped her head back, desperate for oxygen, and his lips dragged a path down her neck, teeth scraping the delicate flesh, causing her to buck against his weight. He growled once more, but this time it sounded deeper, bestial. She blinked rapidly as the sconces flaired to life once more, flames shooting halfway to the ceiling, illuminating the room in bright light.

Her hands flexed against his shoulders, trying to call his attention, but he was consumed by her flesh, lost to the primitive heat.

She swallowed thickly, feeling the motion against his hungry mouth, and slid her hands to his back, nails raking across the material of his coat.

Except the fabric felt different from what she recalled. More… leathery. With rough patches and networks of veins…

She opened her mouth to give voice to panic as she felt the fabric shift beneath her touch as though it were a sentient being.

And suddenly the strange material parted, sliding away from her hands, unfurling to either side of his body.

She watched in horror as massive wings sprung to life, black and talon tipped, blocking out the light of the sconces, casting her into darkness.

A scream was trapped in her throat. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

His head finally lifted, lips leaving behind marred flesh. She blinked, fixated on his kiss swollen mouth, and the gleaming fangs that descended over his bottom lip.

“Neither of us is alone anymore.”

His words rattled through her head, lost to the wave of fear and panic overriding her senses.

And then he smiled, face devastatingly beautiful, a shocking contrast to the razer teeth and batlike wings filling her vision.

As he leaned forward to kiss her once more his wings closed in around them, swallowing her in a pit of darkness.

The bed disappeared, and she fell down a black hole with no bottom. She was weightless, terror filled, and cursedly mute-

Until she collided against something soft. She bounced, gasping for breath, springing to life, eyes frantically searching.

She was back in the bedroom, back in the Tower.

And alone.

She scrambled on the mattress, holding a pillow over her chest like a shield, panting, trembling.

The sconces burned low, the dying flames calm, lazy. She blinked several times, mind slowly returning.

It was a dream.

No.

It was a _nightmare_.

She let the pillow drop, running a hand over her face, wiping away the tears and sweat. Hermione leaned against the headboard, exhausted, nerves overwrought.

She gazed at the door, closed, just as he’d left it when he departed the room earlier.

The images of her nightmare haunted her, made her skin crawl.

She tried to purge her mind of the memories but they played before her eyes in vivid detail.

His words, low spoken and frightening… not because they were disturbing, but because they caused such heat and longing within her she felt it even upon waking.

_What the hell is the matter with me?_

She felt disgusted with herself. Worse yet, what if he read the truth in her eyes when he saw her next?

She slid off the bed, knees shaky, needing to expend the nervous energy infusing her limbs. She began to pace around the room, rubbing at her arms, trying to dispel the gooseflesh.

_He kissed me…_

She shook her head.

_It was a dream, you foolish girl!_

Hermione took a deep breath, walking to the dresser in the hopes that exploring the room would distract from her tumultuous thoughts. She opened each drawer in turn, each one empty.

_So much for distraction._

She rolled her eyes, spinning around.

A breeze stole past, blowing a long curl into her face. She held her breath, feeling the wind circle her before completing its journey across the room.

The tapestry on the opposite wall blew gently, lifting slightly before settling back against the stone.

Hermione tilted her head, eyes narrowing.

She crossed the room, heart fluttering as she reached up and pulled the tapestry away from the wall.

Her heart skipped a beat.

There was a black soot drawing on the stone.

The same image from the book.

A triangle with a circle in its center, a line bisecting them.

She released a shaky breath, deeply unnerved by the seemingly innocent shapes. She ran a finger over the tip of the triangle, it felt cool to the touch, she examined her skin but saw no trace of whatever material was used to create the image.

_Why is this on the wall? What does it mean?_

_And why is it hidden?_

She swallowed heavily, about to step back and release the tapestry, when another sight caught her eye.

Far more disturbing than the sinister triangle.

She slowly stepped closer, hand flattening against the wall, fingers curling in as she dragged her nails across the stone.

And gasped.

Her fingertips aligned perfectly with the deep gouges in the rock.

Claw marks. Human sized.

She released the tapestry, backing away quickly.

_Harry._

_I need Harry._

That was the only coherent thought her frazzled mind could compose.

She fled.

Hermione threw open the door and darted onto the narrow landing, taking the stairs so quickly she nearly lost her footing, catching herself against the wall more than once on her way down.

She didn’t notice the large serpent lying in wait on the landing just over her room, crimson eyes narrowed and watchful as the girl charged down the steps.

Hermione emerged on the lower level, running to the solid wood door that led to the main part of the Castle.

She pulled with all her might, But it wouldn’t budge.

_Shite! It’s locked!_

The thought instilled her with more fear.

_Why would Tom lock it?_

She spun in a circle, eyes flickering rapidly, as though expecting the keys to materialize out of thin air.

_He keeps them with him…_

She swallowed thickly, running her hands through her hair.

She didn’t want to see him right now. Not so soon after the disturbing dream. Not in the wake of the claw marks on the wall.

She wanted Harry. Just Harry.

Alas, the only way out was through Tom.

She needed to find him.

_Where would he be?_

The thought of heading back upstairs and searching through the bedrooms was unnerving. She didn’t want to go back up at all.

So she headed down instead, back to the sanctuary of the library. The door to the lower level opened easily beneath her touch and she wasted no time descending the steps, emerging into the still lit space with a sigh of relief.

The library appeared the same as before, mesmerizing and comforting in its familiarity. She walked down the center aisle, the sconces burning steadily in their holders, but she saw no sign of the man who lit them.

She came to a stop outside the red door, hesitating.

_He claims to work late into the night. Perhaps he’s inside?_

She bit her lip.

_Only one way to find out._

She raised her closed fist and knocked gently. The sound echoed off the walls, dancing around the room. She jolted as the door gave way beneath her touch, creaking open less than an inch. There was light from inside.

“Tom?” Her voice sounded fragile, unsure. She fought past her growing dread and gently pushed the door open the rest of the way, hovering at the threshold.

There was no one inside.

She sighed, reaching for the handle to close the door-

When she heard a faint scraping sound.

She blinked, glancing up.

There was no discernable movement beyond the gentle billow of smoke from the copper pot. Her brows drew together as she heard it again.

She slowly stepped inside.

And paused.

“Hello?”

Before she had time to ponder the stupidity of such a statement in a seemingly empty room, there was a muffled grunt, followed by the sound of clanking metal.

Hermione jumped, pulse racing, spinning on her heel to stare at the massive metal door in the wall.

She was frozen to the spot.

“Hello?” she tried again, louder this time.

Something massive banged against the barrier, causing it to jolt against the hinges. She shrieked, hands flying to her mouth in shock. The rattling bang kept coming as something continued to beat against the other side of door.

And suddenly, an inhuman scream tore through the air.

Once again, Hermione fled.

Tears streamed from her eyes, trailing down her cheeks as she darted out of the lab, the red door slamming shut behind her by forces unseen, the flames dancing wildly in their sconces as she passed.

The library was a blur, as were the stairs as she took them two at a time to the main floor, instincts alive as though the devil himself were at her heels.

She skid to a stop in front of the door to the Castle, knowing it was still locked but pulling at it frantically all the same, hoping beyond hope the adrenaline flooding her system would give her superhuman strength to rend it from the frame.

Alas, it didn’t budge, and she gave up the attempt to gather her skirts, charging up the stairs to the bedrooms.

_Harry, need Harry…_

Harry had always been her protector. He would help her, save her. She just had to get to him somehow-

_I can signal him!_

The inspiration struck with such intensity she tripped, crashing into the steps with enough force to knock the air from her lungs. Her hip took the majority of the impact, but so did her wrist, and white hot pain lanced through her arm, causing fresh tears to erupt.

She bit her lip, fighting back a cry. She didn’t want Tom to find her. He had to be keeping some kind of beast in the lab, and she wasn’t keen on becoming its dinner.

Hermione didn’t stop to ponder the situation any further than that. Rational thought was all but a distant memory in the wake of overwhelming fear, this sense of waking up from a long trance, as though her mind had been trapped in a waking dream.

All she could focus on was reaching the top of the Tower.

The only room with a window.

So she could gain Harry’s attention from outside the Castle…

She’d work out exactly how to accomplish this task when she got there. First, she had to find it.

Hermione picked herself up, cradling her injured wrist to her chest, and continued her trek upwards.

She was panting with exertion, a thin sheen of sweat coating her temples and nape.

She was so consumed by her mission she didn’t see the figure lurking on the landing above, concealed by shadows, wearing the darkness like a cloak.

But as she reached the upper level she felt a shift in the air, the tell tale sign of a presence at her back-

She spun around, barely registering the movement as it sprang from its hiding spot.

And for the second time that night, her blood curdling scream filled the Tower.


	10. Daybreak

_Is all that we see or seem,_  
_But a dream within a dream?_

Harry groaned into his bent elbow, the scent of campfire and damp earth invading his senses.

He slowly blinked, body stiff from his prone position on the hard ground. He'd fallen asleep against the fallen log he'd been seated upon for hours, watching the Tower.

He rolled to his back, releasing a long exhale, his breath appearing before him in a puff of white smoke. He gazed up at the grey sky, the sun hidden behind the clouds.

Daybreak.

He slowly sat up, rubbing his sore muscles, peering around. He was the first one awake, the campfire still gently smoking, burning through most the night. His eyes fell on the shock of white blonde hair, the strands in disarray from sleeping propped up against Pansy's thigh.

Harry stared at the pair of them, jaw tensing.

Then he swallowed heavily, slowly pushing to his feet and facing the Castle.

_Time to get our girl._

He didn't bother waking the others, allowing them a few more minutes of sleep while he made his way across the dead stretch of earth to the massive doors. He'd pulled them open by himself before, he'd do it again.

He grasped the iron handle with both hands and dug in his heels, pulling with all his strength, muscles straining. He finally managed an opening large enough to slip through sideways.

He blinked several times as he stepped inside the familiar entryway. It was still dim, the sunlight trapped behind the thick clouds, but his vision quickly adjusted to the shadows.

His eyes immediately fell upon a plaid blanket laid across the stone floor, dead leaves scattered atop. He saw Hermione's bag, Hermione's book, Hermione's candles…

But no Hermione.

His heart skipped a beat.

_She's just exploring._

Yet he knew the chances of that were slim. Hermione didn't explore. She wasn't the adventurous type, and if she were to develop the sudden urge she wouldn't choose to exercise it at the break of dawn.

_Perhaps she's just using the restroom…_

He knew that was even less likely.

He knelt down, placing a palm flat on the center of the blanket.

It was cool to the touch.

He sprang to his feet.

"Hermione!" He yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth, amplifying the already echoing boom of his voice.

He waited until the final call of her name bounced off the high ceiling before shouting again.

"Mione!"

"What's going on?"

Harry jumped, spinning around to face the figure at his back.

"Christ, Malfoy! You scared the shite out of me!"

"I can see that. Where's Granger?"

Harry shook his head, heart racing. "I don't know. I just came in to get her. Found everything like this. Her blankets cold, the candles are burnt to the bottom… but she's not here."

Draco scratched the back of his head, peering around the dusty floor as though it retained some clue Harry missed.

"Well, maybe she didn't sleep in this room. It is a Castle."

"Where else would she be? The stairs are broken."

Draco shrugged, his air of calm only making Harry more agitated and anxious. "She's a bright girl, Potter. She probably found a bedroom."

"We've both been through every inch of this place, there's no bedroom."

Draco's silver gaze gleamed. "We haven't been through _every_ inch."

Harry drew back.

"The Tower is sealed."

"Like I said, Granger's a bright girl."

Harry took a deep breath.

"Come on."

He practically sprinted across the large room, body thrumming with adrenaline, fighting back his rising panic. Draco followed at a far more subdued pace.

"Calm down, Potter. She's fine."

"We don't know that! Help me look for an open door or something, she may have found a way in. She could be trapped, or hurt-"

"Bloody hell."

"We have no idea what condition the Tower is in!"

"We also have no idea if she's even inside it, it's only a possibility."

Harry headed down the hallway. "The ballroom is the most likely way in, the Tower is behind it."

"It's behind the old library as well."

Harry stopped short. "Mione loves the library, she may have explored and found a way in."

Draco rolled his eyes. "There are no books, genius." He paused. "Then again, knowing her, she probably considered it a sacred space and created a shrine-"

"Shut up and help me look."

"No need to be an arse about it."

But the blonde did as bade, walking in the direction of the library while Harry searched the ballroom.

There was more light in the sprawling space due to the row of windows situated high along the walls. The floor was covered in a carpet of dead leaves and twigs, as well as a few stray animal skeletons. He didn't see any sign of footprints, any trail through the debris.

"Bloody hell, where are you?" he whispered to himself. There was no furniture within the large room, nothing to hide or get trapped behind. There were no doors, no alcoves. Nothing.

He tipped his head back, screaming into the open air.

"Hermione!"

He heard the flapping of wings from the rafters above, a black starling taking flight and soaring through the window.

Followed by eerie silence.

The panic set in.

_Something terrible has happened._

_And it's my fault. I forced her to do this stupid tradition. She wanted no part in it and I forced her…_

His breath came in short pants as he tore through the room a second time, heart skipping a beat as he heard footsteps coming down the hall. But he quickly realized they were far too heavy to belong to his missing friend.

"Find anything?" Draco asked, emerging through the arched doorway.

The stricken look on Harry's face was all the answer he needed.

"Christ." He carded his fingers through his blonde hair, the tension finally seeping into his sharp features.

Harry's fists tightened at his sides, shoulders squaring.

"Wake the others."

* * *

The first sensation was avid thirst.

Hermione swallowed thickly, her throat a scorched desert, dry and cracked.

The second sensation was pounding pain, centered in her head.

She moaned, rolling her neck, muscles tense.

The third sensation was blindness.

She was weighed down in a pit of blackness. Limbs leaden. No visible light for miles, for eons. She was alone in the vast empty cosmos…

The fourth sensation was a gentle rustling sound, echoing all around her in the darkness.

Followed by a deep, hauntingly familiar voice.

"Hermione."

It vibrated through her bones, quickened her pulse, caused the pounding in her head to deepen, the ache spreading through her entire body. The pain was the only proof she existed at all in the blackness.

"Open your eyes."

_My eyes?_

_They are open._

Except, maybe they weren't.

She attempted to swallow again, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. She tasted something strange on the back of her throat, something sugary.

"Open your eyes if you can hear me, Hermione."

She focused all her energy on her eyelids, but they were frozen, unwilling to obey her commands.

Then she felt something along her arm, a heat source that quickly spread through her entire being, energizing her, causing her blood pressure to spike.

She opened her eyes with a gasp, back arching.

The firelight blinded her.

She turned her head, face pressing into something soft, body settling back down.

And then her vision was filled with _Him_.

He was seated beside her, hand wrapped around her upper arm, eyes glowing like a beacon.

He blinked, and the light faded from his grey irises, but they appeared no less mesmerizing, no less unnerving.

"It's alright, Hermione."

Every time he said her name she felt her heart rate increase, thoughts scattering.

She tried to form words with numb lips but her tongue was clumsy, the sound becoming trapped in the dry recesses of her parched throat.

"Here, drink this."

His hand dropped from her arm as he turned away, reaching for something out of sight. He returned with a silver flask, unscrewing the cap. He leaned forward, one hand sliding beneath her neck and tilting her head up, the other placing the spout at her parted lips.

"It's just water," he whispered, the words glancing off her cheek as his face hovered close to her own.

The cool liquid flooded her tongue. She swallowed it greedily, her natural instinct to rehydrate taking over, driving out everything else.

After several seconds he pulled the flash away, slowly lowering her head to the pillow.

She blinked, gazing down at her body. She was laying atop a bed. In a familiar looking bedroom…

The room she'd spent the night…

Until…

She blinked again, thoughts thick and clouded.

"Wha…" she wet her lips, trying again. "What happened?"

Tom tipped his head, eyes scanning her face.

"Don't you remember?"

She took a deep breath, the pain her head slowly receding.

"I…" She blinked. "I don't…"

"It's okay, take it slow."

He reached out a hand, gently grasping her chin and turning her face towards him. But his eyes were on her forehead.

"You took a spill down the stairs. I found you passed out on the landing. You bumped your head pretty hard."

She blinked once more, flushing deeply.

"I fell?"

"Mm."

"I don't remember leaving my-"

_Yes, you do._

She jolted at the whisper in her mind. It was her own voice, faded, as though spoken from a great distance.

_Wake up, Hermione._

"Are you alright?" His eyes focused once more upon hers.

Staring into the grey void silenced the voice in her mind.

"Yes, I think so. Just sore." She swallowed thickly. "And thirsty."

He smirked. "Here." This time he handed her the flask.

She took a few slow, tentative sips, the sugary taste finally washing out of her mouth. She broke his gaze, peering at the stone, windowless walls.

"What time is it?"

His jaw ticked as he retook the flask.

"Just after dawn."

"Dawn?" She attempted to sit up, head swimming.

"Slow down." He slid a hand behind her back, helping her sit up.

"I…" she cradled her head, the throb returning. "I have to go. My friends will be searching for me."

His body went rigid at her side. She glanced up, heart in her throat.

"What?"

A shadow passed across his face.

"I'm afraid they've already left."

She shook her head. "No. There's no way. Harry would never-"

"Let me show you."

He held out a hand. She stared at the offering with great unease, inexplicable fear unfurling within her.

"It's okay, Hermione."

His low spoken words echoed off the walls louder than a scream, reverberating through her skull.

"Take my hand."

She felt her arm lift of its own accord. She rested her palm atop his, warmth invading her arm once more. His fingers gently encased her wrist. Her head cleared, stunningly empty of thought and pain.

He pulled her from the bed, eyes holding her steady in a trance.

"Come with me."

* * *

 Harry came sprinting into the library.

"What? Did you find something?"

Blaise looked up with a bored expression.

"Pansy saw a spider."

Harry scowled. "Are you bloody kidding me?"

She scoffed, stepping out from behind an empty shelf. "You didn't see the size of it, Potter!"

"Have either of you even been looking for Hermione?"

"Considering she's only slightly larger than the spider I just saw I think it's safe to say she isn't here!"

Harry shook his head, already retreating for the door.

"Keep looking!"

He ignored the grumbles at his back and took off down the hall, heading for the sound of commotion in the ballroom.

"Any luck in here?"

Neville sighed, turning around, face red with exertion.

"I've combed the room a dozen times, I don't see any trace of her having been in here. Luna is checking the opposite side of the Castle."

"She shouldn't be alone, it's dangerous over there and she's never been inside before."

"Malfoy is with her."

"And we're both back."

Neville and Harry spun around, eyes landing on the pair beneath the archway.

Luna tipped her head, eyes sad.

"I'm sorry, Harry. We didn't find anything."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, making it stand on end.

"This is insane. Where the hell could she be?" He glanced up at Draco on instinct, the man's silver gaze etched with uncharacteristic somberness. "It makes no sense. All her stuff is still in the entry. She was able to set it up, to light the candles…" His blood ran cold. "What if an animal came in and-"

"Stop," Draco snapped, stepping forward. "Don't go down that road. If that were the case there would be signs of a struggle, blood, _something_."

He started to reach for Harry's shoulder, but Harry couldn't bear to be touched. Not right now. Not by _him_.

He reared back, overwhelmed with fear and frustration. Draco's arm dropped, hurt clear on his face.

It was too much, all too much.

Harry spun around, pounding a fist on the wall. He felt it give way beneath his touch, but he paid it no mind, slumping into the paneling and sliding to the ground, head tipping back.

_This isn't happening. This can't be re-_

"Um… Harry?"

His eyes snapped to Neville. But his friend's gaze was elsewhere. Harry blinked, following his line of sight.

And jolted forward, scrambling to his feet.

"What's going on in…" Pansy trailed off as she entered the room, eyes landing on the same thing that held their focus. "Here."

Harry took a tentative step forward, heart quickening.

"Is that…?" Neville tilted his head.

"A hidden door." Draco answered, voice tense.

Harry felt his chest swell with anticipation. And fear.

"She's in there. I know it."

And then he took off into the dark expanse, no thought in mind but finding her, deaf to the sound of his friends calling his name.

* * *

Hermione listed to the side, tipping towards the wall. She pressed her hands flat to the cold stone, gasping lightly at the feel of strong hands gripping her waist from behind, helping steady her.

"Go slow, don't rush it."

She nodded, hyper-aware of the imprint of his fingertips through her shirt.

"I'm fine. Just had a dizzy spell."

And the longer his hands lingered the dizzier she felt.

"You should sit-"

"No!" She spun around, eyes wide. "I need to-"

"See your friends, yes, I know."

Something flashed in his gaze, wild and dangerous, but she blinked and it was gone, his expression indulgent once more.

"It will be faster heading upstairs to the window rather than going through the entire Castle. We just have to go up two floors."

She nodded. "I can handle that."

He offered his arm once more, waiting patiently for her to find her bearings, hovering at her side as they proceeded up the stairs slowly.

She blinked as they passed the landing, a strange sense of déja vu overtaking her. She swayed on her feet, his hand pressing against her lower back to keep her from falling.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

His voice ghosted along her neck. "You had a nasty spill, you're likely concussed."

She swallowed, bringing a hand to her forehead. "Why did I leave my room?"

His silence prompted her mind to start reaching for possible explanations, but it was like grasping tendrils of smoke, there was a hazy image but nothing substantial beneath.

"We should turn back-"

"No. I'm fine." She lowered her hand, accepting his assistance as they wound their way up the spiral staircase, finally coming across another door.

It was solid black, covered in a lacquer that made it gleam in the firelight.

Something about the image was surreal, as though it were pulsing like a living creature.

"What's beyond there?"

Her eyes were transfixed, ignorant to the intensity of his gaze as he watched her step towards the door.

"My collection."

Her heart skipped a beat. She glanced over her shoulder, brow raised.

"Collection?"

"Different items I've procured throughout my travels."

She felt her pulse thrum faster and faster as she faced forward once more, slowly extending a hand, fingertips lingering just a hair's breadth away from the black surface.

And suddenly the whispering voice returned.

_The book._

She blinked rapidly, recalling sitting upon the bed, gazing down at a strange tome, the buzzing sensation it caused along her skin.

_There was something else… something after that…_

She reached desperately for the memory, feeling it just beyond her reach, waiting for her-

"Just a bit further."

His deep voice broke her from the dark reverie. He reached out and gently drew her away from the door, redirecting her to the steps.

Tom took hold of her wrist once again, a gentle yet unbreakable vice. She glanced over her shoulder one last time, staring at the ominous door with a growing sense of dread.

And then they turned the corner, and it disappeared from sight.

* * *

"Bloody hell, Potter! You're going to break your shoulder!"

Harry scowled, rubbing the sore joint and eyeing the immovable barrier with narrowed eyes.

"There's got to be a way to break it down."

"Perhaps we can pick the lock," Luna suggested from her spot further down the narrow hall.

Harry sighed. "Does anyone here know how to pick locks?"

She deflated.

"Even if we did, that thing looks ancient, it's probably rusted over," Neville said, rubbing his shoulder as well. They'd both spent the better part of the last ten minutes trying to physically jar the door open, having hit a dead end after funneling through the hidden passage.

"If neither of you can get through there's no way in hell Granger managed it, she's a slip of a thing," Blaise said from the very back, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"It may not have been locked when Mione found it," Harry said, mostly to himself, glancing once more at the large wooden door. He placed a palm flat against it. "We need an axe."

"Oh, let me just pull one out of my-"

"If you aren't going to offer useful suggestions keep your mouth shut, Zabini." All eyes swiveled to Draco.

Blaise raised a dark brow. "What's the matter with you?"

"Granger could be in serious trouble, try acting like you give a shite."

Blaise shifted uncomfortably, arms dropping to his sides as he stood away from the wall.

"Well excuse me for trying to keep my head on straight. I seem to the only one not bordering on hysterics."

Pansy tipped her head. "I only became hysterical over the spider. I could care less about-"

"Pans." Draco shook his head. "Shut up."

"Listen," Blaise said, voice earnest enough to draw everyone's attention. "If she's really trapped somewhere then we're not going to be able to get to her by standing around trying to knock the door in. This place is a fortress that's withstood centuries of thieves and everything mother nature has thrown at it. We're certainly not going to make a difference."

Harry straightened, eyeing the man speculatively. "What do you suggest then?"

"We need to head back to Town."

Harry reared back. "I'm not leaving-"

"Fine, then stay behind and the rest of us can go. We need to get reinforcements, more people to help us break our way in, or at least scour the woods since the chances of her being inside the Tower in the first place are-"

"It's not a bad idea," Neville interrupted, turning to face Harry. "Getting more people. Or at least an axe, as you suggested. And if she's hurt we'll need medical supplies."

Harry scrubbed a hand over his face. "Fine. But I'm staying behind, in case…" he swallowed thickly. "Just in case."

"No."

Harry's head snapped up. Draco held his gaze.

"You're the fastest one among us. You can make better time. You should be the one to go."

Harry opened his mouth but fell silent at Draco's raised hand.

"Longbottom, too. He can help rally people to bring back. Villagers should be returning from the market soon. The storm is on its way." His silver gaze drifted to Pansy and Luna. "Take the girls with you. There's nothing they can do here but they can help gather medical supplies in Town."

Harry took a deep breath.

"I'm not abandoning Mione-"

"You won't be." The blonde met his gaze once more, eyes hardened. "I'll stay behind."

* * *

Hermione took a deep breath as they reached the summit of the Tower. She felt strangely sapped of strength ever since Tom took her wrist in his hold.

The top level had no door, simply an open archway revealing a small, empty room.

Equipped with a window.

The natural light lifted her spirits considerably, made her feel far less claustrophobic.

She stepped into the room, the stone floor strewn with leaves and stray feathers.

Tom released her, allowing her to cross the small space to the window, following slowly in her wake, his footsteps echoing off the walls.

Hermione braced her hands against the ledge, inhaling the crisp morning air and holding it in her lungs. She gazed out at the scene before her, heart stuttering.

She'd never been so high up before. She peered down at the endless sprawl of the forest canopy, the trees lush and vibrant even in the cloudy morning light. The sea could be heard crashing along the cliffside to her right, the call of the gulls circling overhead.

Her eyes latched onto the pocket of the dead earth in front of the Castle, where she'd last seen her friends. The campfire had been doused in water, the blackened stones caked with ash.

There was no movement beyond the birds and small forest creatures.

No sign of anyone.

She released the breath she'd been holding, shoulders sagging.

Tom stepped behind her, a scorching heat at her back, his breath cascading down her neck.

"They're gone." Her voice was barely a whisper, lost to the wind.

The back of his fingers traced along her spine.

"I'm sure they looked for you. But the storm is coming, they couldn't afford to linger."

She swallowed thickly. His hand slid around to her waist, fingers splaying along her side.

"Harry would never leave me."

His hand clenched, fingers pressing in harder.

"I'm sure he intends to return, once the danger has passed."

She wet her lips, pushing back from the window, which in turn pressed her further into the wall of his body.

"It doesn't make sense. Harry would never-"

"Best not to dwell on such things," he said, voice laced with an edge of derision that made her muscles tense. He took a deep breath, his next words soft and coaxing.

"You shall be reunited soon enough. Once the storm passes it will be safe to leave."

Hermione blinked, turning her head to gaze up at him, his touch finally registering in her fog addled brain. She took a step back, his hand slipping away from her side.

"What?"

He tilted his head, eyes roaming her face, lingering at her parted lips.

"It isn't safe to venture outside. A torrential downpour is on the way and the woods offer little shelter. You'll have to ride it out here."

Her gaze flitted to the window once more, focusing on the grey swirling sky.

They reminded her of his eyes.

She felt a chill race up her spine, mimicking his touch from moments before.

"I can't stay. They'll worry about me-"

"They left you."

She met his gaze, chest aching.

"My parents-"

"Would prefer you avoid the danger in a fortified Castle opposed to braving the wild terrain by yourself."

She fell silent, his tone brokering no room for argument. His expression softened as he took a step towards her, closing the distance. He placed a hand on her arm, squeezing gently.

"It won't last long. Just a few more hours, and everything will be as it should."

Her eyes flickered between his, sensing some far greater meaning in his seemingly innocent words.

And then the patter of rain could be heard hitting the side of the Castle walls, the wind growing in strength, blowing through the window and whipping her long hair around her neck, pulling her skirts forward, wrapping them around his legs.

She nervously pulled her curls away from her face, unable to break his gaze. She could see triumph in his gleaming eyes. The sight rattled her nerves.

And suddenly, as if on cue, lightning split the darkening sky, the rain fell harder, thunder booming in its wake. Nature's deafening call to battle.

Hermione took a deep breath, the bitter taste of surrender on her tongue.

"Alright. I'll ride out the storm here."


	11. Hysteria

_Black as midnight_  
_Black as pitch_  
_Blacker than the foulest witch._

"Christ, Potter, slow down!"

Harry scowled, pushing stray branches aside as he plowed through the trees.

"Perhaps you don't understand the situation, Zabini, or what _time is of the essence_ implies."

He didn't see the man roll his eyes from his lagging position at the back of the group.

"The girls can't keep up with you!"

"Hey, don't pin it on us!" Pansy snapped, attempting to crawl over a fallen log nearly as tall as she was. "We may be shorter but you're the one who's out of shape!"

"Are you serious? Feel my abs!"

"Will you both shut up?" Harry shouted over his shoulder.

Neville panted behind him, helping Luna over a pile of jagged rocks.

"Why don't you take off ahead of us?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration, sweat collecting along his temples and neck.

"I don't want to get separated. The storm is coming in fast." He peered up through the thick green canopy at the grey, swirling skies above and narrowed his eyes. "I didn't even know it was supposed to rain."

Luna glanced up, still holding onto Neville's shoulder for stability as they navigated the treacherous forest floor.

"It wasn't supposed to. Daddy and I keep a close eye on weather patterns when we do our star observations. There were no signs of a storm."

Harry's chest seized, staring into the dark skies with a growing sense of unease.

"Let's keep going."

He forced the feelings aside. Only one thing mattered.

Finding Hermione.

Which meant getting to the Village as soon as possible to gather reinforcements and supplies.

But it was impossible to keep his growing dread at bay. Every worst case scenario kept playing through his mind on repeat, his best friend dying in the most horrific of ways over and over again no matter how hard he tried to force his thoughts elsewhere.

_Did an animal get to her?_

_Did she wander outside and fall off the cliff?_

_Is she crushed beneath a pile of rubble?_

He groaned loudly, scrubbing a hand over his face, stomach in knots.

"Harry." Luna's soft and soothing voice pulled him from his dark musings. "Hermione is terribly clever. I'm sure she's fine."

"Yeah, mate," Neville added, cheeks flushed from exertion. "I know she's okay, I can feel it."

Harry flexed his jaw. He knew they were merely trying to be supportive, stay positive, but their words only agitated the tension festering away inside him.

"Something awful has happened."

He swallowed thickly, stones settling in the pit of his stomach as he spoke the forbidden words aloud.

"I can sense it. In the air, on my skin, everywhere." He paused, glancing over his shoulder, everyone's eyes upon him. "Don't you feel it?"

Neville blinked.

"Feel what?"

Harry sighed, trying to find the words.

"I don't know how else to explain it. It's like a shadow that's been following us from the moment we arrived. A blackness in the air we've been breathing in."

The ensuing silence was as crushing as the rising dread.

And then Pansy arched a brow.

"Wonderful. Potter's gone off the deep end. Just what we need."

He rolled his eyes.

"Forget it."

"Trust me, I will."

Blaise helped her over a row of shrubs.

"Keep it together, Potter," he spoke over his shoulder. "Hysteria spreads faster than the White Plague. You keep spewing on like a lunatic and pretty soon we'll all be meowing."

Harry barely heard the man, his focus once more devoted to leading the group through the thicket. But Neville tilted his head.

"Meowing?"

"Yeah, like those nuns."

"What?"

Blaise's eyes lit with intrigue. "You didn't hear about the convent that went crazy?"

Pansy scoffed. "Can you blame them? Forced to wear potato sacks and pray all the time, I'd rather be trapped in my own mind than inside one of those places."

"That's because you're a heathen, Pans. You'd burst into flames the moment you set foot inside."

"What does any of this have to do with cats?" Neville asked, voice genuinely curious.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Not cats. Nuns. One chit lost her mind and started meowing all day every day. Then, pretty soon, it spread to the others. Mass hysteria. The entire lot of them were carrying on like cats. The entire convent had to be quarantined so it wouldn't spread to the villages."

Neville shook his head. "You're making this up."

"I am not! Ask around when we get back! In fact, ask Pince, she probably has a book about it in her collection."

Harry groaned, rubbing his temples.

"Will you shut about the damn cats! This has nothing to do with finding Hermione!"

Blaise's expression pinched, boring holes into the back of Harry's head.

"They weren't _cats_ \- you know what, nevermind."

Pansy laughed. "If only I could get you to shut up so easily."

Blaise pinched her arm even as he helped her leap over a narrow stream.

Harry did his best to ignore the hushed conversations that followed as he strategized the fastest path back-

A drop of water hit his forehead, running down the bridge of his nose.

He blinked, gazing up.

Another drop hit his eye.

He swallowed thickly as the grey skies opened and a gentle rain began to fall.

"Shite."

He glanced back at the group, everyone staring at the clouds with varying levels of trepidation.

"Come on," he urged, adrenaline surging anew. "We have to hurry."

He spun on his heel, continuing forward with a burst of speed.

The dark stain he felt the mysterious presence of since last night started to spread, racing along his spine and possessing his mind.

Harry had thought the storm was an omen… but now it seemed a sentient being, born of swirling chaos.

And it was coming straight for them.

* * *

Draco sighed as yet another stream of water began to pour on his head.

"Bloody hell." He cringed, ducking out of the way, wiping his forehead dry with his palm.

He peered up at the crumbling ceiling.

The rain had just started and already the Castle roof was proving to be as fortified as cheesecloth.

He knelt over and grabbed Granger's blanket off the stone floor, shaking it clear of leaves and debris before folding it in half and slinging it over his shoulder.

He reached for her knapsack next, tossing her opened medical book back inside and pulling the strap over his other side.

He spun in a slow circle, watching the rain trickle in all across the lobby floor.

Thunder crashed overhead, making the walls tremble and his heart skip a beat.

He swallowed thickly.

_Get a grip._

The clouds darkened, the meager light streaming in through the upstairs windows dimming further, making his haphazard shelter not only cold and wet but dark as well.

Fantastic.

Draco set his jaw, walking around the streaming leaks as he cut a path for the servant's quarters. They were hidden away, without windows, and hopefully without flash flooding.

As he started for the hallway he heard floorboards creak from the landing above.

He glanced up.

And saw nothing but the empty walkway and the broken staircase beneath.

He released a slow breath.

"So much for getting a grip," he muttered to himself, both to alleviate the tension stirring within him and to fill his ears with more than just the rain and groaning Castle.

He slipped into the dark, dry hall, unconsciously holding his breath and quickening his pace, breathing a sigh of relief as he turned the corner into the brighter space beyond.

He peered through the window, the lush greenery of the forest in the distance, leaves rattled by fat raindrops. They were falling faster, harder. Draco thought of the others. There was no way they'd have made it back to the Village yet, even if they spent the entire time running.

His muscles tensed as he pictured them sliding through the mud, losing their footing, losing sight of one another-

He shook his head to dispel the thoughts.

_We've made this journey dozens of times between us. They'll be fine._

He almost believed it.

Draco finally arrived at the servant hall entrance. The door had been hidden behind a massive cabinet for years.

But Harry had found it, somehow moving the obstruction and uncovering a small cluster of rooms, making him the champion explorer in their childish competition.

Draco opened the door, heart leaping into his throat as he gazed upon the carvings on the inside of the wood.

_Harry Potter was here_

The silver of his irises lightened, almost glowing in the surrounding darkness as his thoughts betrayed him for the umpteenth time that day.

He removed the strap of Granger's bag and let the weight fall to his feet, slowly raising a hand and tracing the jagged letters with his fingertips.

Emerald eyes flashed before him.

The echo of a deep laugh.

Dark, wild hair that that tangled around his fingers...

Draco tore his gaze away, a wave of dizziness overtaking him.

He took a deep breath, placing his hands at either side of the doorway, trying to regain his bearings.

His thoughts strayed once more as he stared at the dusty floor, wetting his lips.

Draco didn't dare speak the suspicion aloud in Potter's presence. But here, in the dark solitude of his mind, the fear spoke in a loud, succinct voice, impossible to ignore.

Granger was a smart girl. One of the smartest people he'd ever met, though he'd never admit it to her face.

She wouldn't have left the Castle grounds. She wouldn't have explored the interior on her own.

Unless something compelled her to leave the safety of the lobby.

And if something tricked the formidably Hermione Granger, Draco certainly stood no chance.

A scraping noise caused him to spin around so fast he nearly lost his balance.

The shadows were alive, undulating across the walls, evading the scarce remnants of light from the imprisoned sun.

The scraping turned to light scratches. Leaves blowing across the floor.

Or long nails dragging across the walls.

He blinked.

_Don't start with that shite, idiot!_

But once the haunting image took root in his mind the other urban legends he'd been spoon-fed since youth came flooding down, submerging him fully, filling his lungs with black rot.

The noise stopped. Suddenly, all at once.

He took a shaky breath.

_It's just the storm._

_Stop looking for trouble._

He leaned over and picked up the bag, backing his way into the servant's quarters, eyes still fastened on the place he'd just been.

Paying no mind to darkness ahead.

* * *

"Ah! Dammit!"

Harry spun around, eyes squinting through the torrential downpour for the source of the masculine shout.

But he could barely see his hand in front of his face, the water beating off every surface in a white sheet.

And then-

"Harry!"

Luna's voice sounded frantic, so unlike her usual self it caused him to bolt blindly ahead, arms extended out to feel his way across.

"Luna?"

"Harry! Over here! Hurry!"

He ran in the direction he thought her voice was coming from, nearly tripping over her huddled figure.

He staggered in the mud, backing up carefully, water pouring from his sopping hair into the bodies below him.

Luna was kneeling beside Neville, the man's face twisted in a grimace of pain.

"What happened?"

Neville shook his head, teeth gritted. Luna squeezed his shoulder, gazing up at Harry.

"He slipped while trying to help me over the stone pass."

Harry knelt down next to them, just as another body came into view.

"There you are!" Pansy shouted, running to his side. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Not now!" Harry snapped, focusing on Neville. "What hurts?"

He panted lightly, complexion white as the rain. "My ankle."

Harry sighed. "Help me get his boot off."

"It's fine, Harry-"

"I'll be the judge of that."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "No, I'll be the judge. Move over."

She pushed Harry without preamble, causing him to lose balance and topple to his rear end.

"I'm the only one with a shred of medical training," she said in place of an apology. "I can tell you if it's sprained or just broken."

Neville swallowed thickly as Luna helped the other girl unlace his boot.

"Just broken? Isn't that the worse of the two?" He asked, voice thin.

She shook her head. "Torn muscle takes longer to heal than bone in most cases."

Harry sidled in close, glancing around them.

"Wait, where's Zabini?"

Pansy carefully pulled Neville's foot free as he grimaced, hiding his face in Luna's shoulder.

"I don't know. I lost sight of everyone. I only stumbled upon you because I heard the shouting."

Harry ran both hands through his hair, slicking it back, wiping the water from his eyes.

"This is insane. We can't keep moving in this, I can't even tell what direction we're heading in."

Pansy slowly rotated the swollen appendage in either direction, Neville's fists clenched tight.

"The bone's intact. It's a sprain." Her eyes narrowed. "A bad one at that. He's not going anywhere."

"Yes, I am-"

"No, you aren't." Harry's voice was final, brokering no room for argument. "None of us are. We have to wait for the rain to die down. And we can't leave Blaise."

Neville swallowed heavily, slumping into the ground, allowing the rain to assault him head-on.

Harry shook his head. "Come on. There's a hollowed tree not far back. It'll be tight but I think we can all fit."

He stood, extending his hand and helping pull Neville upright. He braced a shoulder beneath the man, acting as a human crutch while Luna followed closely behind, hands out as if to catch them should they fall.

Harry blinked, glancing over his shoulder as he noticed someone missing.

"Parkinson!"

She was facing away, shoulders tight.

"Pansy!" He tried again, watching her carefully, afraid to lose sight of anyone again.

She backed up towards them, then finally turned.

"I thought I saw something."

He tilted his head. "Zabini?"

Her face was pale.

"What did you see, Pansy?"

His blood pounded through his ears as he watched her, nearly drowning out the rain.

"Nothing."

Her fists clenched tight as she marched past the group, eyes averted ahead, leading the way to the measly shelter.

The set of her shoulders and spine made Harry's heart race.

He had no idea what she thought she saw.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

* * *

Tom slid the brass key into the matching lock, the click echoing through the library, and opened the red door with a heavy sigh.

He left the door ajar as he made his way across the lab to check on his brew, it was coming along perfectly, before opening the cabinet at his back and extracting a vial of yellow liquid.

He shook it back and forth and held it to the firelight, carefully examining its contents.

Viscosity was still good.

He slid the vial into his pocket and retook the keys, this time isolating the large iron one as he stopped before the massive door.

"Rise and shine."

He calmly turned the key and pulled the heavy barrier open.

Chains rattled, metal scraped stone, the sound of creaking limbs followed.

Firelight flickered along the back wall, illuminating his tall silhouette, but the figure huddled in the corner was cloaked in heavy shadow.

Only its glowing eyes visible.

Bright amber, narrowed and watching him carefully.

Tom raised a dark brow.

"Don't give me that look." He reached into his pocket. "I come bearing gifts." He held the vial aloft, a smirk curling his lips. "Unless you don't want it."

It scrambled forward, mouth open, eyes widening, reaching desperately for the vial but the chains tore it back.

Tom tilted his head.

"Easy now. There's a lot more where this came from. But I need you to do something for me."

Its face transformed at his words, mangled features turning murderous.

His smirk widened to a full-fledged grin.

"You're in quite the mood this morning. You haven't even heard what the task is. As it happens, it's something you'll quite enjoy."

He wet his lips, his own eyes beginning to gleam unnaturally. "In fact, I'll let you have this dose now, just to reward you for your good behavior last night."

He dropped the vial, knowing its rapid reflexes would save the glass from shattering. Sure enough, long bony fingers tipped in matte black nails wrapped around the narrow tube just before it hit the stone.

It eagerly bit the stopper, spitting it across the room and downing the contents in a single convulsive gulp.

Tom tucked his hands in his trouser pockets, watching the change take over with idle curiosity.

He couldn't help but feel a swelling of pride in his chest. His creations never ceased to amaze him.

The figure curled in on itself, eyes rolling back in its head, all lines of tension melting away. He allowed it to bask in the glow of ecstasy a few moments longer before clearing his throat, gaining its undivided hatred once more.

"Better?"

It snarled, gleaming yellow teeth snapping at the air.

"Excellent." He grinned broadly. "I need you to take care of a little problem that's lingering in the Castle. I give you free reign to do so however you please. Just make sure you don't destroy the structural integrity of the building again. The stairs are still broken."

It slowly unfurled, long limbs bending, bracing the stone, crouched to pounce.

Eager to hunt.

Tom nodded. "Very good. And before you get any daring ideas, remember my promise. If you disobey me, I _will_ leave you like this for all eternity. Understand?"

It snarled once more, eyes averted to the doorway, a reluctant acceptance.

Tom stepped forward, withdrawing the keys once again.

"The same rules for me apply to my guest. You aren't to set foot in the Tower until I fetch you. If she sees you, I will punish you beyond belief."

Tom stood next to his creature without a hint of fear, slipping the small key into the chain release, the heavy manacles unsnapping at once.

It lunged forward, crashing into the opposite wall, jagged nails gouging the stone.

It glanced over its shoulder, feral eyes peering out through a curtain of matted hair.

Tom winked.

"Enjoy your breakfast."

It leaped deftly from its prison, skidding into the lab and then changing angle with agile swiftness, the special tonic swarming through its system, heightening its senses. Tom saw the moment it caught Hermione's sweet scent, its body jerking violently.

But Tom knew it wouldn't dare defy his commands.

It nearly tore the red door off the hinges as it burst into the library, heavy footfalls echoing off the stone. By the time Tom stepped into the lab, it was already out of sight.

And yet another beast gazed at him.

Tom peered down at his loyal companion, head bobbing above her undulating body, red eyes gleaming. She held his gaze for a moment more before licking her eyes, head tipping.

He sighed.

"I know, you hate it when I set her loose."

He walked around the table, picking up stray papers and setting them aside.

"But tonight you won't have to compete for your meal, I have something even more special for you."

Nagini raised to nearly his height, her excitement palpable. He swept aside foreign debris, never allowing his workspace to fall into disarray.

"I need you to follow those fools into the woods and make sure they stay clear of the Castle. If any of them turn back, as I strongly suspect will be the case, I want you to take care of it."

His eyes narrowed upon the copper pot, thoughts occupied by the girl sitting several floors above.

"This evening is very important. I won't have any disturbances."

His churning gaze flickered to his loyal beast.

"You know the rules. Don't leave any bodies to find."

She bobbed her head, darting out of the lab with swift and silent grace, a jarring contrast to his other creation's loud and unrestrained movements.

Tom stood alone in his most sacred space, watching the steam steadily rise from his brew, the tendrils of smoke curling in like beckoning fingers.

He wet his lips, irises taking on a supernatural glow as he pictured her face in stunning detail.

Soon.

Soon, she would be his.

* * *

Blaise slumped against the mottled trunk of a whitebeam, folding his arms over his head in an attempt to shield his eyes from the chaotic downpour.

It did little good. He still couldn't see any members of his lost group.

Shite.

How in the hell did he get separated?

Potter has been several yards ahead of them all for the majority of the return trip, yet Pansy had been fastened to his side throughout.

But then the rain started and she'd let go of his arm. He'd heard a strange noise behind them and reached for her, intent on running in the opposite direction rather than investigating like a true fool.

Only his hand had met nothing but open air and rain.

Pansy was gone, as were the others.

It was like he'd stepped into another time, the land looking practically prehistoric this far from civilization.

The sound of branches breaking drew his gaze, heart leaping with anticipation.

But he saw no person, no animal, no movement beyond the steady fall of rain.

"Screw this."

He wasn't going to stand around and wait for his mind to betray him. He wouldn't end up like those nuns. He took off running through the brush, water in his eyes, the ground slick beneath his feet.

He skidded through a deep puddle, muddy liquid soaking his trousers to the knees.

Seriously, screw this.

Blaise tore through bushes, thorns scraping his skin, drawing blood. He hissed, fighting to clear the branches away, panting in exhaustion.

He glanced around, his surroundings appearing no different than they had moments before.

Fantastic. He had no idea if he was any closer to finding the others, or if he'd only succeeded in putting more distance between them all.

He leaned against yet another tree, resting his head against the bark, trying to catch his breath and calm his nerves.

And blinked.

What the hell?

He stepped forward, gaze averted to an overhanging branch above his head.

Writing.

Or rather, crudely made carvings, but legible English nonetheless.

He read the words two, three, four times…

And swallowed heavily, Adam's apple bobbing high.

It was almost as if he could hear a frantic voice whispering the message into his ear.

MYRTLE WARREN

**HELP**

Blaise stared upon the carvings for several more moments, transfixed, limbs froze.

And then he heard a shout in the distance.

"Harry!"

The adrenaline surge made him light-headed. He wasted no time breaking away from the tree, running full speed in the direction of low voices.

But the haunted whisper stayed with him.

* * *

Hermione gazed out of the window with open longing, her face and hair damp from the spray of the rain.

She couldn't bear to walk away from her only portal to the outside world. So when Tom declared his intent to inspect the body of the Castle as the storm began she had only been too happy to stay behind.

Footfalls echoed up the spiral staircase at her back. Logically she knew it had to be him, and yet she spun around with a gasp anyway.

Tom entered the uppermost room with an easy smile, hands raised.

"Just me."

She blushed, shoulders dropping.

"Sorry, storms always make me a bit nervous."

He raised a brow, hands lowering to his sides as he crossed the room slowly.

"Is that so?"

She rubbed her arms as a cool breeze stole past.

"The crashing thunder always jolts me." She swallowed heavily as he stopped just before her, gazing down with a secretive smile.

"What?"

He shook his head, smile growing. "Nothing. Here, take this." He started to shrug out of his overcoat. Hermione blinked.

"Oh, you don't have to-"

"I insist."

His plain black undershirt was revealed as he wrapped the equally dark coat around her shoulders. She shivered at the contact, the flood of his lingering warmth and masculine scent surrounding her. His hands slid along her arms before releasing, the wall of his body still directly in front.

"I checked the grounds." His breath ghosted across her face. "The main rooms are soaked. We're better off staying in the Tower."

She nodded, doing her damned best to keep her gaze from drifting to his mouth.

"Were there any signs of my friends?"

He shook his head, expression soft, sympathetic.

"I'm sorry."

Hermione sighed, head lowering in resignation, gaze drifting to the swell of his Adam's apple, down the line of his throat to the pale triangle of flesh visible at the parting of his shirt.

Her face burned feverishly. She chastised herself for reacting so strongly to just a hint of skin.

For goodness sake! She'd seen Harry and Ron completely without their shirts as they cut wood during the hot summer months.

And yet this felt distinctly different…

"Hermione."

She jumped, eyes darting back up to meet his. He chuckled.

"Shilling for your thoughts?"

She laughed, high and nervous, terrified he could read the truth in her eyes.

"Trust me, they aren't even worth that much."

His expression sobered rapidly, causing her laughter to catch in her throat as he held her steady in his sights.

"Anything that breaches the gates of your brilliant mind is surely fascinating."

She swayed gently on her feet, unable to break his hypnotic stare.

"You think too highly of me I'm afraid. I'm plagued by fleeting and irrelevant thoughts the same as anyone."

The grey swirled around his expanding pupils.

"Fleeting," he whispered. "What I wouldn't give to be similarly plagued." His chest bumped her own as he leaned in. "I find myself consumed with but only one thought as of late. Inescapable, unyielding. Eating away at my very soul."

His eyes scanned down her face, stopping at her lips.

She licked them on instinct.

The grey disappeared entirely, his eyes hauntingly black, gleaming in the weak daylight.

_What plagues you?_

_What consumes you?_

_What touches your soul?_

The questions burned in her throat.

But she bit them back, body trembling with the effort.

For she feared his answer more than the questions themselves.

Not because of what he might say…

But because of what he might not say.

She couldn't bear such crippling disappointment. Not so soon after being abandoned by her best friend.

She brought a hand to her chest, rubbing absently at her heart.

He seemed to detect the change within her, the invisible wall erected.

He stepped back, jaw ticking.

And then he smiled.

"There's something I'd like to show you."

She took a deep breath, still trying to regain her bearings. He always managed to disrupt her equilibrium with merely a glance.

"Something in your lab?"

He shook his head. "No, something in the room just below."

Her heart leaped as the image of the black, gleaming door danced before her mind's eye.

"In your collection room?

"Yes."

Some strange instinct caused her stomach to clench. She pushed the notion aside and nodded slowly.

"Alright."

Any distraction was better than none. She didn't have enough willpower left to pull herself from his molten gaze the next time she fell in.

"Are you sure you're feeling up to it? How is your head?"

She smiled in embarrassment, covering the faint bruise at her temple with a palm.

"I'm fine, really. And I'd love to see your collection."

He tilted his head, extending not his arm for her to take this time, but his hand.

She stared upon it for several beats before slowly meeting it with her own, fingers trembling lightly.

The moment he enclosed her smaller palm in his her entire body sparked to life, earlier trepidation forgotten.

He squeezed gently, cool skin rapidly heating.

"Follow me."

She nodded mutely, feeling herself being drawn back into the raging grey sea, unable to stop the slow descent.

Unwilling to turn back.

She allowed him to lead her towards the door. She spared one last parting glance for the window before they reached the doorway, staring upon the outside world with open longing.

And suddenly- an inhuman scream cut through the air, sharp as a knife.

Her spine went rigid, body drawing back with a frightened gasp as she looked towards the window, where the shrill sound seemed to emanate.

Tom's grip tightened painfully, tugging her forward, a powerful tingling sensation rushing along her arm and flooding her chest, rising along her neck and filling her skull with a cloud of white vapor.

The fear quickly faded.

She looked at him with wide, dazed eyes.

"I…" she blinked slowly. "I heard… a scream…"

Tom shook his head, drawing her towards him, wrapping his other arm around her waist.

"No, Hermione," he whispered across her lips, eyes hooded. "You just heard a bird call."

She swayed, leaning into him.

"A bird… call…"

"Hm." He released her hand to brush the pad of his thumb over her lips. She licked them. They tasted of salt. And sugar.

"Good girl."

He retook her hand, interlacing their fingers, and pulled her onto the landing.

She followed in a dreamlike daze, limbs loose and pliable.

Tom turned to face her once more.

And snapped his fingers directly before her eyes.

She blinked.

"What?"

He tipped his head in response.

Hermione swallowed, closing her eyes briefly. "I'm sorry… w-what did… did you say something?"

He smiled.

"No, you just heard a bird."

Her brows drew together, thoughts muddled.

"Oh. That's right."

She blushed, glancing away.

_I'm always making a fool of myself in front of this man…_

He tugged her arm gently.

"Ready?"

She nodded once more, biting her lip as they started down the stone steps.

And then she blinked, heart skipping a beat as she gazed upon their interlaced fingers...

For he'd been holding her other hand only a moment ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Drunk History](https://history.howstuffworks.com/historical-events/10-strangest-mass-hysterias1.htm) 101: Fun with Nuns


	12. The Collection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Happy Halloween ;D**

_Here in the forest dark and deep,_  
_I offer you eternal sleep._

After what felt like a short eternity the storm finally let up, though the heavy clouds remained as an ominous, watchful presence overhead.

Harry ran a hand over his rain and sweat slicked face, then carded his fingers through his soaked mane, dragging the heavy black mass away from his eyes.

“Alright, it’s now or never.”

He turned around in the cramped confines of the hallowed tree they all crowded within.

Blaise sparked to life first. “You expect us to trek through a monsoon? It’s bound to start again at any moment!”

“Maybe.” Harry shifted forward and rose to his feet, the overhead leaves shedding their water in a gentle patter. “But we’re losing what meager daylight we have. If and when it starts up again you take shelter where you can.”

Pansy arched a manicured brow, lips pursed. “What do you mean by _you_ , Potter?”

He sighed deeply, crossing his arms as he faced the huddled group. “I’m heading back to the Castle.”

“What!”

“Harry-”

“This isn’t up for debate. You need to get to the Village as soon as you can, round up everyone available and haul arse back.”

Blaise stood next, wet twigs snapping beneath his boots. “Why the bloody hell aren’t you coming with us?”

Harry’s jaw tensed.

"I have a…" He stopped short, desperately searching for the right words. Nothing came to mind but the inelegant truth. "...bad feeling. I want to check on Dr-" he jolted with the slip-up, quickly recalibrating. "I want to see if Malfoy found anything new."

“That’s ridiculous-”

“Stop arguing with me! Neville is injured and needs immediate medical attention.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, crawling out of the makeshift den next. “It’s a sprain, Potter, not a missing limb.”

And then Luna was rising, stepping beside Harry and placing a gentle hand at his shoulder.

“Harry’s right. We shouldn’t have left one person alone at the Castle. Least of all in this weather. Hermione already went missing from the grounds. The last thing we need is another disappearance to contend with.”

His body went rigid with the fear her words induced. Her fingers gently squeezed the tense muscle as he met her serene blue gaze.

“Thank you, Luna.”

He looked down at their remaining member, seated upon the wet leaves and grass, cheeks flush with exertion as he tried to gain leverage with his good leg. Luna quickly made her way to his side.

“Neville?” Harry prompted, arms still tightly crossed, braced for argument.

The man in question sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t like the idea of you heading back on your own.”

“I’ve made more trips to the Castle and back than all of you combined. I could navigate these routes blindfolded.”

“And yet you still managed to get us lost in the rain.” Pansy casually inspected her nails, though the set of her shoulders seemed particularly strained.

His eyes narrowed.

“We didn’t get lost. We got _separated_. Which is why you need to stick close by each other the rest of the way.” His gaze shifted and hardened on Blaise. “You’ll have to help Nev along, the girls can’t support his weight.”

The man tossed his head back and released a dramatic groan.

“I should have known Granger’s initiation ceremony would be a pain in the arse.”

“That isn’t funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.” He turned and walked back to the tree. “Alright, I’ll help the gimp.”

Neville scowled. "We should have left you stranded when we got separated."

The words lacked any venom, Neville’s voice mostly pained as Luna helped him stand. But Blaise froze in place, paling considerably. Harry blinked at the sight, seeming to be the only one to notice his abrupt change in posture.

He blinked again and Blaise was in motion once more, leaving him wondering if he imagined it.

Harry sighed, pushing on.

“Hurry and go, the sky looks ready to open at any moment.”

Neville still looked reluctant to part company but put up no further opposition. Luna nodded in farewell before allowing Blaise to step in and relieve her of Neville's slumped weight. As the group slowly made their way across the grass Pansy fell in line at the back, pace slowing until finally, she came to complete stop, glancing at Harry over her shoulder while the others continued on.

He raised a dark brow, trying to keep his aggravation at bay.

“ _What_?”

He expected her signature poison tipped tongue. Instead, her face grew pensive, jaw silently working as though sorting out the words. His arms dropped to his sides as unease set in.

Finally, she broke the eerie silence.

“Do you have a weapon?”

His heart thudded painfully against his ribs.

“Excuse me?”

Her face pinched. “You heard me, idiot.”

_That’s more like it._

“I left my crossbow at home.”

She turned to face him fully. “You didn’t bring a knife?”

His shoulders tensed once more, pulse thrumming.

“I have Sirius’s hunting blade.” He opened the front of his soaked coat, revealing the covered knife strapped within. She nodded, taking a step back.

“Make sure you keep it handy.”

His blood chilled in his veins as she started a measured trek after the others, sparing him one more glance.

“In case you decide to kill Drake. He gets rather obnoxious when he’s sopping wet.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he watched the group slowly disappear through the lush greenery, trying to pretend her question had been made in jest.

But something in her voice told him it had been a warning.

* * *

Hermione continued to blink at their interlaced fingers, the heat of their pressed palms somehow suffusing her entire body with chills as she followed him down the winding steps.

Tom glanced over his shoulder, squeezing her hand gently when he noticed the concentration upon her face.

“Hermione?”

She blinked, eyes flickering up.

He arched a dark brow, prompting her to flush as she bit her lip. He smiled in response and her heart stuttered wildly.

And then he faced forward once more, leaving her to silently berate herself for acting so foolishly in his presence.

Until they arrived before the gleaming black door.

And all thought evaded her entirely.

She inhaled deeply at the malevolent sight, their torchlight reflecting upon the lacquer, casting strange, haunting shapes across the grain.

He squeezed her hand again, briefly, before releasing her in order to extract the iron keys from his pocket, selecting the correct one without even glancing upon them and swiftly turning the lock.

The sound of sliding metal echoed loudly throughout the spiral staircase, causing her to jolt. A moment later he was turning the knob and pushing the barrier in, revealing the utter blackness beyond.

Her heart thundered as she reared back, pressing her shoulder blades into the stone in retreat.

Tom faced her and blinked, expression softening immediately.

“It’s okay. We just need light.”

She swallowed heavily at the words, even as they seemed to loosen the knots within her stomach and chest. She held her breath as he walked inside, listening to the steady clip of his steps as he ignited the sconces along the wall.

The flame’s warm glow finally unveiled the contents of the room, causing her to pull away from the wall instinctively, drawn forward by an invisible rope.

And then she crossed the threshold.

She tipped precariously on her feet, breath evading her lungs as vertigo crashed upon her. The air was charged, alive, thick as smoke, clouding her vision.

She felt an arm at her waist, tipping her further sideways and into a solid, warm mass bathed in a familiar, comforting scent.

“Lean against me,” he whispered into her hair.

She obeyed immediately, allowing him to support all of her weight as she went lax in his hold. Her eyes started to drift closed, but the darkness only accelerated her dizziness.

“I don’t…” She wet her lips. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

He hummed, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating along her spine. “Head injuries have far more consequences than their outward appearance suggests.”

She slowly nodded, flinching when it caused her stomach to turn over. “Perhaps I’m concussed.”

“I’ll have to keep a close eye on you.” His hand flexed upon her hip, fingertips burning through her skirts and branding her flesh. She inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to his chest and slowly pushing back, tentatively balancing on her own feet.

He watched her face carefully as she finally took in their surroundings.

They stood within the same circular space as all the other rooms in the Tower, however, this particular room was lined with circular shelves running the length of the ceiling to floor, each one littered with an array of eye-catching artifacts and treasures. She became breathless once more, focus darting from one item to the next, hands unconsciously clenching upon his chest.

She finally found her voice, speaking without thought or filter.

“This is incredible!”

He smiled, seemingly delighted by her enthusiasm.

“I knew you would appreciate my collection more than most.” He tipped his head towards a shelf to her left. “Come, let me show you some of my favorite items.”

She nodded eagerly, earlier ailments forgotten as his arm fell away and he strode forward, prompting her to follow close at his heels, eager as a child on solstice morning.

He came to a stop before an object draped in black velvet. He gently pulled the end, sliding the fabric away and revealing a breathtaking structure beneath, its domed roof carefully etched with fire-breathing dragons, each scale gleaming in the light.

She blinked several times, stepping closer to examine the piece, the creatures seeming to watch her approach, slitted eyes flickering. She jolted, then dismissed it as a trick of the light.

“It’s beautiful.”

She tilted her head, entranced by the etchings.

“Is it… what is it?”

His smile widened, teeth gleaming as he focused upon her reaction.

“A helmet.”

Her eyes darted to his. “Truly?”

His deep laughter echoed off the walls and across her skin.

“I know, it appears more art than armor. But such was the way of the Ming Dynasty militia. At least for their commanders.”

He used the velvet as a glove as he slowly rotated the item around, revealing a widow’s peak cut out in the front.

“This is known as a chichak-style helmet. The dragon is meant to imbue the wearer with the same power and ferocity of the mythical beast, as well as strike fear in the heart of one’s enemies.”

The intensity and appreciation in his voice was mesmerizing. She wet her lips. 

“To think something so beautiful could be capable of such sinister purpose.”

His eyes flashed, smile faltering. She drew back instinctively, her own expression sobering. A stuttered heartbeat later he was perfectly poised once more, though the angles of his face appeared sharper.

He covered the helmet with the velvet, addressing her over his shoulder.

“Are you a fan of astronomy?”

She fought to shake off the unease from moments before.

“Yes. Deeply so. My parents have many books on the subject.”

He began to lead her to another shelf.

“Are they fans of Greek mythology as well?”

She couldn’t contain her answering grin.

“What gave it away?”

His smirk was delightfully roguish. “I didn’t want to assume the source of your namesake.”

She tilted her head, examining his profile as she followed at his side.

“Most people assume they were inspired by Shakespeare.”

“From what you’ve told me they are far too academic to name their only child after the subject of London Theatre.”

She laughed. “They would be flattered by such a determination.”

“Then I am sure to stand in their good graces.”

She instantly fell silent, biting her lip as the thought of Tom meeting her parents flitted through her mind without warning, the mere notion as ludicrous as it was enthralling. She shook her head to dispel the fantasy, overwhelmed by the implications.

But once again he rendered her mind still as placid water as he reached out for the next treasure, grasping the long, narrow cylinder with his bare hand.

A telescope.

She gasped.

“How marvelous!”

His smirk deepened, holding it towards her.

“Here.”

She took an automatic step back, hands curling at her sides.

“Oh, I couldn’t-”

“Hermione.”

Her heart skipped a beat. His eyes shone with vibrant intensity.

“Take it.”

She held her breath, arms lifting of their own accord, palms out, filled by the cool, smooth metal a moment later. The weight of the telescope was more than she expected. Her fingers curled around the precious item and she brought it close for inspection, pulse thrumming wildly.

He tucked his hands in his pockets, settling into comfortable repose as she nervously handled what was undoubtedly a priceless antique.

She inhaled deeply as she lifted the viewing end to her eye, pointing it between the sconces so the firelight wouldn’t blind her.

She wet her lips, arms trembling lightly.

“Is this from the Netherlands?”

She heard him shift beside her.

“Yes.” A brief pause. “How did you know?”

She slowly lowered the scope, turning to face him with a shy grin. “That is where the majority of these early designs were fabricated.”

He tilted his head, eyes roaming her face with careful precision, the fire reflected in their depths.

“How do you know it’s an early design? I’ve kept it in pristine condition.”

She nodded quickly, grip tightening around the cylinder. "Oh, you certainly have. The condition is mint. But this is missing the side mount attachment for an eyepiece to incorporate Newton's reflector. The design predates such innovation, making it nearly a century old I would presume."

Her heart swelled as the flames in his gaze flickered and grew, the blaze scorching.

His smile grew.

“You never fail to amaze me.”

Her blush burned like a fever. She glanced away quickly, trying to keep her breath and voice steady.

“I am the one who’s amazed. This is undoubtedly a priceless antique, I can’t believe I’m seeing it in person, little less holding it.”

She watched him step forward from the corner of her eye.

“Then you’re certain to love this.”

He gently extracted the telescope from her grasp, setting it back in its holder before reaching down and taking her hand. Heat raced along her arm and alighted in her chest, causing her to rock back on her heels before he was propelling them across the room once more.

Though the shelf ahead was littered with trinkets, she knew which treasure he meant to show her next. Only one stood encased in glass, reflecting the dancing glow of the sconces and their own warped faces as they neared.

They stopped directly before it, and she finally saw the object contained within.

A compass.

She shook her head, mind reeling.

“That’s undoubtedly ancient.”

He nodded, releasing her hand, leaving her bereft of its solid heat as he traced a fingertip along the edge of the case. “It’s the oldest piece of any item in my collection.”

He turned his head, meeting her gaze with a smile. “It’s comprised of ivory, sapphire and jade.”

She wet her lips, eyes wide and gleaming.

“It’s from the Han Dynasty, then?”

His gaze flashed once more, grin turning wry.

“Correct again, Ms. Granger.”

She laughed in self-deprecation, warmth seeping from her burning cheeks down her neck, disappearing beneath her collar.

“Please, tell the class how you came to such a brilliant deduction.”

“It was a lucky guess.”

“Don’t be modest.” His eyes flickered down to her mouth and back up so quickly she wondered if she imagined the movement. And then-

“Please.”

Her entire body throbbed at the one syllable, the rest of his words sending molten heat through her center.

“I derive great enjoyment from hearing you speak so passionately about history.”

“I…” She blinked, trying to regain her bearings, trapped by his unnaturally bright gaze. “The markings on the face give it away as a tool of divination rather than navigation. Many civilizations utilized early compasses for such a purpose, but based on the materials you mentioned I narrowed it down to a specific region, and from there I simply chose the empire most renowned for their artistry.”

His leaned in, gaze searching, though whatever he sought was an utter mystery to her overwrought mind. Finally, he settled back, brow raising.

“You’ve learned all this from books?”

She pinned her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying the skin as her nails pressed deep into her palms.

"As you know, I have a bit of an unhealthy obsession with literature."

He shook his head.

"The pursuit of knowledge is never unhealthy. There is no more noble endeavor to be had."

Time slowed as they held each other's gaze, rocking on their feet before tipping closer, drawn in like magnets. She wasn’t sure when her eyes moved down to his mouth, but suddenly his full lips were centered in her vision, pink tongue darting out to trace along the bottom.

And his voice broke the spell.

“There’s one more item I want you to see.”

She blinked several times, leaning back and nodding mutely, not trusting her voice.

He held out his hand, face calm and eyes expectant.

She accepted the offering with thought or hesitation, relishing the return of his warmth and strong, certain grip.

She floated behind him, feet barely skimming the ground as he led her across the room to the final shelf.

And the black, velvet bust at its center.

With a glittering, silver locket resting atop.

Her heart stuttered painfully, feet hitting the ground with enough force to make her knees weak.

The pendant was beautiful.

But also disturbing.

And she couldn’t pinpoint why, which only served to unsettle her further.

She pulled back on her arm as he led her before the bust, trying to take a step back.

The vertigo was overwhelming.

She tipped fully to the side, weight falling to the floor, bone cracking impact inevitable-

Tom spun gracefully on his heel and caught her in his arms, drawing her up effortlessly, pulling her against his frame, fully encasing her.

“This is overtaxing, I shouldn’t have-”

“No!” She gasped against his chest, face buried beneath the comforting warmth of his coat. “I’m alright, I just-” she wet her lips, slowly shaking her head. “I don’t know what happened, but it isn’t your doing.”

She felt him tense against her. She started to pull back to gaze upon him, but her eyes were caught by the gleaming locket at their side.

It entranced her.

A faint buzzing noise filled her head as her stomach clenched painfully. She pressed a hand to her middle, eyes watering.

“Hermione.”

He grabbed her chin, tilting her face upward, forcing her gaze away from the haunting bauble.

“You’ve turned pale. Are you ill?”

She blinked rapidly, senses clearing as she stared upon him, the buzzing fading as the twisting snakes settled in her gut.

"No… no, I'm fine."

Her strained voice did little to convince him, his hand lingering upon her chin for another heavy beat before sliding along her jaw and curving around her cheek, cupping her face.

She sighed in contentment, resting her head in his hand, heartbeat speeding up and slowing down at the same time.

And then, without prompt or permission, her lips parted and her burning question slipped out.

“Where is it from?”

A shadow passed across his gaze and she knew he understood.

“It belonged to a Queen.”

She tipped her head back, his knuckles grazing along her cheekbone before lowering to her waist.

“How did you come to possess it?”

He smirked coyly, making her pulse riot anew.

“The same way I came to possess everything in this room.”

Her heartbeat thudded loudly in her ears. The grey of his irises swirled like molten steel.

“I killed its owner.”

A beat.

Then two.

And they both burst into laughter. He shook his head, fingertips pressing into her side as he lifted his other hand and pushed an errant curl from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“The majority of these items were procured along my travels. I seek out fellow collectors, looking to buy or trade. A select few pieces were gifted for various reasons.”

She tilted her head, hands resting on either side of his heart.

“Like saving a village from a deadly plague?”

His smile was breathtaking.

“Something like that.”

She bit her lip once more. This time his eyes latched onto the movement and stayed. The energy in the air snapped and sparked, creating a phantom light display all around them, an invisible vortex of charged particles sweeping her hair off her shoulders and feet off the ground.

The phenomenon felt natural, as natural as his arms around her, the moment fragile and intoxicating.

Making it easy to ignore the faint, pleading whisper at the back of her mind.

The voice that sounded suspiciously like her own.

Begging her to run.

* * *

Draco groaned as he dropped the heavy bag to the ground beside the rickety cot, turning in a slow circle with the candle extended far from his body.

The servant’s quarters were barren and caked in such a thick layer of dust the filth appeared permanently ingrained into the surface of the furniture.

“Utterly disgusting.” He ran a hand over his face. “What the bloody hell am I doing here again?”

He shook his head in frustration, cursing Granger for the umpteenth time, abstractly aware he was using derision to mask his visceral fear for the missing girl.

If something happened to her, Potter would never forgive himself. Never be the same again…

He ground his teeth, inhaling deeply and squeezing the candle until his entire arm trembled with the force of his internal struggle.

He finally suppressed the untimely eruption within his heart, pushing it to the far recesses of his mind where it belonged.

Only for his senses to be overwhelmed by a new interruption.

A shrill, high pitched scream tore through the air, echoing off every wall, surrounding him on all sides, leaving him spinning frantically, straining to hear the direction of the source.

The sound was sharp enough to peel the skin from his bones, causing every hair to stand on end along his arms and nape, spine taut with fear and panic.

It hardly sounded human.

And yet, what else could it be if not Granger?

He swallowed heavily, setting the candle aside and darting out of the darkened servant's quarters and back into the main hall, lungs pumping furiously as his adrenaline spiked to nausea-inducing levels.

And then the chaos stopped.

Wholly and abruptly.

Leaving his ears ringing in the eerie silence that followed.

He froze in place, muscles twitching, desperate to move, to run.

To flee.

_Don’t be ridiculous, you bloody idiot!_

_Animals don’t scream like that._

_It had to be a person._

_It had to be Granger._

His body vibrated as he continued down the shadowed hall at half pace, every part of him clenched and ready to explode at the slightest provocation.

_It was Granger…_

A strong breeze blew in from the adjacent hall and scattered dead leaves along the stone, the scraping amplified by his sharpened senses.

_Granger. It has to be her._

He was panting open-mouthed, fists clenched at his sides, swaying with every step.

And then he emerged in the main entry, the vast, open space drenched by the rain, stray drops falling from puddles along the hole strewn roof. Leaves, sticks and debris floated across the narrow rivers between cracks in the broken stones, the irrigation causing everything to drift towards the center of the Castle where the structure slowly concaved.

Creating an indoor moat around the Tower.

Draco ran a trembling hand through his damp hair, mercurial gaze darting off every shadow and stray raindrop with jolting precision, his instincts screaming at him to run, his mind scolding him for being ridiculous.

_Granger is obviously in trouble. I would be a true coward to abandon her here._

His jaw ticked.

_And he’d hate me forever if I left._

He was pulled violently from his frantic musings by the sound of something scraping along the stone.

He jumped, spinning in place, desperately searching every wall, eyes wide in a vain attempt to let more light in, make sense of the sinister shadows creeping along the walls.

He’d spent many a night in this very room.

But never alone.

It added an entirely new layer of terror he’d never experienced before.

_And I pushed Granger inside by herself without a parting thought._

The guilt was crippling.

So was the humanoid shadow that appeared out of nowhere, crawling along the floor, darting past his feet.

Breath evaded his lungs entirely as he yelled and staggered back, transfixed by the horrific sight.

“What the-”

He blinked, instincts screaming once more, commanding him to look up.

He tilted his head back, heart skipping every other beat, spots appearing before his vision.

Yet he still caught sight of the large, shadow-strewn figure on the ceiling, springing from rotted beam to beam like a massive cat, eyes glowing with a predatory sheen as it watched him from the darkness.

Blind terror rendered him mute. Frozen.

For it wasn’t a cat.

And it wasn’t a person.

Weak daylight filtered in through a break in the dark clouds, illuminating the side of the creature's face before it snapped its sharpened teeth angrily and reared back, submerging itself in the darkness of its high perch once more.

But the fractured beam revealed enough of the mangled visage to make one thing certain.

Draco had no desire to get any closer.

He regained use of his legs in the next heart-pounding moment and took off like an arrow, darting for the front doors, stumbling on his feet as the feral, inhuman scream cut through the air once more, so much louder this time, vibrating the walls and shaking the floor.

Scraping stone and falling dust followed. Draco spared another fleeting glance upward, transfixed by the sight of the beast scrambling from beam to beam with unnatural dexterity and long, muscled limbs, dark veins standing in stark relief against pale, stretched skin.

He pulled wildly at the front doors.

They wouldn’t budge.

“Come on!”

He dug his heels in, pulling with both hands until he was screaming with the strain on his muscles.

But they were sealed.

_No no no no no_

The creature was getting closer, he could hear its wild, frantic breath, the sharp drag of its nails across the beams, dark talons glinting in the fading sun.

He gave up on the door and sprinted across the center of the room, intent on finding a ground floor window to leap out of.

He heard the deafening thud of the creature dropping to the floor. He didn’t spare it a backward glance, already knowing it survived the impact or it wouldn’t have made the jump.

Sure enough, rapid, pounding footsteps echoed loudly in his wake.

And Draco unleashed his own feral scream into the ancient Castle.

* * *

Harry jolted as a distant sound tore through the air, making the blood freeze in his veins.

He stood on alert, turning his head from side to side, trying to determine the direction of the noise.

_Maybe it’s a bird call._

But his instincts told him otherwise.

The sound continued on for an unnaturally long time, shrill and grotesque.

A death cry.

His thoughts rapidly scattered to make room for one, deafening realization.

The Castle.

He took off at a sprint, skidding along the wet grass, heartbeat lodged in his throat, arms pumping furiously at his sides as he fought to maintain his footing.

Branches and dripping leaves slapped him the face, scraped at his skin and tore at his clothing, as though the forest itself was trying to stop him from reaching his destination.

The scenery flew by, the pounding of his heart and boots filling his senses, blinding him to the predator following steadily at his side, rapidly navigating through the trees and brush, undulating as rapidly as his legs propelled him forward, green scales blending effortlessly with the forest floor.

No, Harry didn't see it until it burst explosively through the trees, massive body twisting mid-air as scattered leaves and jagged bark flew in every direction.

He lost his footing, at last, crashing to the hard-packed earth with a shocked yell as the beast continued its collision course right for him, jaw dislocating as it stretched open, wider than his head.

Its dagger sized fangs glinting in the light.


End file.
